Juxtaposition
by Dragenphly
Summary: SLASH.AU. What if Harry Potter wasn't the Boy Who Lived…what if everything went quite, quite differently. Is there really nothing special about Harry? Or can appearances be deceiving? Discontinued.
1. Prologue

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Title: Juxtaposition

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Rating: PG-13 for now, I guess. Will be R later when the slash comes along.

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Pairing: Harry/Draco

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WARNING: Alternate Universe and Slash in the later chapters.

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Summary: AU. What if Harry Potter wasn't the Boy Who Lived…what if everything went quite, quite differently and Harry was the sidekick instead. Is there really nothing special about Harry? Or can appearances be deceiving? 

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Disclaimer: Not mine. I just run off with them and torture them horribly. 

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Author's Note: Got attacked by the plot bunny and it wouldn't let go. 

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Review: You people inspire me. It's appreciated. But if you don't…there's not much I can do, eh?

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Prologue:

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Halloween 1981

Lucius Malfoy shuddered as he watched the Dark Lord prepare to enter the farmhouse. Lately, his lord and master had become even more fanatic, no longer stopping at eradicating muggles and half-breeds, but even moving on to those purebloods that opposed him. 

Lucius always prided himself on self-preservation, and recently his instincts had been kicking in more often than not, telling him to find a way out, and soon, before he was drawn so far into the depth of the Dark Lord's insanity that there would be no return.

"Now…" his master hissed, and as one the Death Eaters moved forward towards the Burrow. They burst through the door, relishing the screams that started up as soon as the people inside caught a glimpse of the dark cloaks and masks. Wands ready, they entered the shabby living room, where they were confronted with a family of redheads, all brandishing their wands. 

There was no talk, just curses flying back and forth, and Lucius drew towards back, watching in detachment as several of his fellow Death Eaters fell. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a redheaded boy sneak away, no doubt to fire call the aurors. Let them come…they were ready.

No sooner had he thought that when all around him popping noises sounded and the aurors appeared, immediately holding several Death Eaters at wand point. Lucius saw Molly Weasley desperately shepherd her children out of the room.

At the opposite of the room, he saw James Potter kill Bellatrix LeStrange, his wife's sister. He felt nothing, could only look on as Voldemort turned towards the black-haired man and strike him down from behind. As he looked at James Potter's dead body something akin to anger flashed through him. 

Lucius prided himself an honourable Slytherin, although some would say there was no such thing. He picked his battles with great care…but there was nothing honourable about striking your enemy from behind, he though in distaste. His self-preservation instinct grew, giving him a headache with the amount it was screaming at him.

Suddenly a wail arose from a crib in the corner, and Voldemort turned towards it with a malicious smile. Striding towards the one year old Weasley, he raised his wand, revelling in the scream Arthur Weasley gave when he saw the Dark Lord near his youngest child.

Lucius frowned. Something was urging him closer. He stayed in the shadows of the room, seemingly impervious to the flying beams of light. Now he was directly behind his master, who didn't seem to sense his presence. He almost stumbled, and glanced down at the broken body of James Potter. The eyes were open, but there was no fear, nor hatred. Only defiance, and perhaps, before he had died, some amount of sorrow. Didn't James Potter have a wife and child much like himself? Lucius involuntarily raised his wand.

Nobody paid attention, no one was looking towards the Dark Lord, save for Arthur Weasley who was desperately struggling to reach his child in time. 

"_Avada Kedavra!_" It was shouted, but it was unclear by whom. The entire room stopped as Voldemort let out a scream and smoke appeared to rise from his persona. Lucius stared at his writhing master, watched him crumble in front of his eyes. He slunk back into the shadows, going…going…gone.

Arthur Weasley stared at the retreating shadow before throwing himself towards the crib where his youngest lay. Suddenly there was a burst and the Dark Lord vanished. Many of the Death Eaters fell to the floor in pain, and the aurors dropped as well, covering themselves from the explosion. It rattled the glass panes of the windows of the Burrow, the shards flying around. No matter how close Arthur Weasley held his son, he still felt the sharp edges cut into his child.

Then it was over. Moody, as leading Auror, stood up and ordered the Death Eaters to be taken away for trial. He hurried over to the red-haired man, who was cradling his child. 

"Arthur?" Arthur Weasley's unseeing eyes met his. Moody put his hand on the shell-shocked man.

"Arthur, is the child all right? Do you need to go to St. Mungo's?" Dazed, the Ministry employee managed to shake his head and Moody nodded, deciding it was best to leave the family for a bit.

"I'll be back later with the paperwork." With that, he disappeared. Molly Weasley rushed into the room, screaming in relief and fear as she saw her son mostly unharmed in her husband's arms.

"ARTHUR!! Are you all right? Is Ron? OH MY GOD, he's bleeding…" she took the child from him, cooing gently at the infant and fussing over the cut on his neck that she knew would leave a scar. Then she turned to her husband, who hadn't spoken at all in the last few minutes.

"Arthur? What…what happened? Talk to me Arthur…" Arthur turned his blue eyes to his shaking wife.

"He…he's gone. Voldemort has…disappeared." His wife's large eyes turned to his.

"Is he dead?" 

"I…I'm not sure. But…he fell…he was trying to hurt Ron…he's gone, Molly. He just…vanished. I heard the spell…I HEARD IT. Yet, Ron's alive…he…he's alive!"

He drew his wife to him in a tight embrace as they stood in the ruins of their living room. One by one the other children gathered around their parents and Arthur Weasley felt tears roll down his cheeks. His family was safe. They were alive. Ron was alive. Then he frowned through his tears, thinking of Lucius Malfoy. Had he saved his son? Or was he merely supporting his master? 

Shrugging, he clasped his family to him, vowing to think about it at a less pressing time.

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"I swear I know what I SAW!" she growled at the editor who remained looking sceptic. 

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named raised his wand, said the Killing Curse and FAILED. He FAILED to kill that little boy! That must mean something!!! It's a great story, damnit! That little boy SAVED us!"

Her editor didn't look impressed.

"You're telling me to print something that will put the faith of the wizarding populace in a small boy? Don't be silly…" She growled, frustrated.

"This is a BIG story - and if you don't run, I'll find someone else who will!!" Annoyed at her threats, and not wanting to miss out on a potentially good article, he sighed.

"Ronald Weasley - The Boy Who Lived…I guess we could run with that…"

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	2. The Early Years

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Title: Juxtaposition

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Rating: PG-13 for now, I guess. Will be R later when the slash comes along.

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Pairing: Harry/Draco

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WARNING: Alternate Universe and Slash in the later chapters.

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Summary: AU. What if Harry Potter wasn't the Boy Who Lived…what if everything went quite, quite differently and Harry was the sidekick instead. Is there really nothing special about Harry? Or can appearances be deceiving?

Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognise.

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Author's Note: Right, I'm in love with this, which is very dangerous, but whilst I'm working on Haven and Revelations, this demanded to be written. You know how it goes.

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Thanks to Em for looking this over for me, you star!

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Review: I really don't beg, but please, please review. These chapters are quite long, and feedback makes my work all the more rewarding.

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Chapter One: The Early Years

"It is with regret that I inform you that your husband, James Potter, was killed in the line of duty battling against the Death Eaters. The ministry offers their deepest condolences and as compensation for your loss, we offer you ten thousand gallons, to be forwarded to your Gringotts account by the end of this week at the latest. Your husband's body will be released into your care then also, and we ask you to come and clear his personal effects by the end of this month."

Sirius Black finished reading his piece and looked at the ashen face of his best friend's wife. She was clutching the young Harry Potter desperately to her chest, keeping him in constant contact, as if he too might fade away if she wasn't looking.

He leant forward.

"Lily…" Her green eyes turned to him, going through him. In her eyes, he read the same pain that he felt and he just wanted to make it go away. He pulled her to him, embracing her as she started to cry, feeling the wetness on his skin as well.

Then it was over and she was pulling away, composing herself. Her eyes were calm and assessing, and she nodded at him curtly.

"Thank you Auror Black, I will make arrangements, of course." He was a little shocked by her abrupt manner, and leant forward again, but this time she held up a hand.

"I'd…I'd prefer it if you didn't come round for a bit, Sirius. Tell Remus and Peter as well - I don't think I can handle that right now…"

"LILY! You don't mean that, do you? What about you? What about Harry? We can't leave you two alone like this…Voldemort may have disappeared but he's not finished yet, I assure you!" he lowered his voice, pleading now. "James was our friend too, you know. We've lost someone dear to us as well…and you mustn't forget…" he trailed off, his eyes trying to convey something important too her.

She nodded, and gave a shuddering sigh, yet her eyes remained dry.

"Sorry Sirius, but my decision stands. I shall see you around." With that, Lily Evans-Potter pushed Sirius Black out of her home, and subsequently out of her life. He stared at the closed door of Godric's Hollow, and finally, after a long period of deliberating, turned his back and trudged home.

On the other side of the door, Lily rested her forehead against the wood. James was…dead. James was dead. Tears began forming in her eyes but she resolutely pushed them back. No - she had shed her tears. No more crying. Now, she had to be strong, for herself, for Harry and for James - who was no longer here.

Harry woke up and blinked, staring up at her with eyes she knew were hers. Pulling him close, she sat at the table.

"Oh my darling darling Harry…what's going to happen to us now?" She brushed her son's unruly hair lovingly and thanked Merlin that at least Harry still had one parent to love and cherish him. Looking at his cherubic face, she kissed his forehead and laughed slightly as he gave her a disarming smile.

"I promise I will never let anything happen to you. I promise to love you with the strength and courage and love of both your parents, Hadrian." Sighing she buried her face in her hands, almost wailing in despair. James had been so young…they were both so incredibly young…how was she supposed to manage on her own?

She felt detached as she walked around the small cottage. Everything she touched belonged to them. Everything she saw had some memory of her and James attached to it. A thousand needles managed to stick themselves into her heart and she knew with certainty they would always be imbedded there.

There was a knock on the door. She walked towards it, but it burst open before she could reach it.

"LILY? LI – there you are! I came as soon as I heard! Where's Hadrian?" Lily looked at her father-in-law with haunted eyes.

"He's on the table." She watched as Hadrian Potter collected his namesake and hugged him to his chest. Harry appeared to have fallen asleep and Lily gave a small smile at the sight of her son. She then looked at James's father.

"What's going to happen now?"

Hadrian looked at the girl he considered a daughter and took in her large eyes wide with despair. He pulled her towards him.

"You're coming home with us to the manor."

Lily didn't protest. There was no way she could stay here, with all these reminders of James. It made her ill. So she nodded and the three disappeared.

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It had been four weeks, and Lily had spent all her time sitting in the living room of the large Potter Manor, letting Hadrian and Aislinn Potter take care of the necessary funeral arrangements. Harry lay silently in the wooden crib, which stood a handbreadth away from Lily. Sometimes she would pick him up, and she would see herself reflected in his eyes, and mother and son would stare out the window at the vast Potter grounds solemnly.

The funeral had been trying. Lily hadn't expected so many people to show up, and it was hard for her to maintain her composure. Sirius and Peter stood by her side silently, though Sirius kept shooting her anxious looks. Lily knew he was hurting as much as she was, but she couldn't find it in herself to be strong for someone other than her son.

She thought she saw the shadowy figure of Remus Lupin somewhere beyond the trees, and she wondered why, out of all the people around her, he was the only one she really wanted to speak to. Both of them former prefects, they had built a close friendship, based on trying to stop James, Sirius and Peter from whatever disaster they were aiming for.

But she lifted her head as the wind swept her robes about her. Her eyes focused on somewhere beyond the coffin, beyond Albus Dumbledore who was speaking slowly, beyond the hundreds of mourners; colleagues, class-mates, friends, beyond, to the horizon where the sun was fading…and at that point Lily Evans said goodbye to James Potter, and imagined that the rough current of air around her was a papery farewell kiss.

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The phone-call to her parents had been difficult. Her mother, Rose Evans, insisted she come home, but Lily knew, for Harry's sake, that her stay in the wizarding world was important, and had declined. Her mother had shouted, pleaded - had even put Lily's father on the phone, but Lily was adamant. Even though the wizarding world had taken more from her than she ever wanted to give, she wasn't someone who would turn her back on James' parents, not after they had lovingly taken her in. Lily knew that they needed her as much as she needed them right now, but didn't try to explain this to her own parents…only leaving a floo address where she could be reached.

An owl had brought a letter from Petunia a few days later, and Lily, who had thought the relationship between herself and her sister had soured beyond mending, was overcome with a stab of happiness, something that only Harry managed to provide these days.

Hadrian Potter had come home one day with all of James' things from his desk, and it had been a slap in the face for Lily to be confronted with bits and pieces of James' Auror life; the picture of the three of them, his wand…a locket with Harry's first tuft of hair, a pack of lewd wizarding cards, undoubtedly a present from Sirius. She had put the locket around her neck and put everything else with James' school things, in his chest and locked it, asking Hadrian to help her put it in the attic of the large manor.

For weeks, cards had been streaming in from well-wishers and letters from friends, concerned about Lily sequestering herself in a big old manor, far away from the real world. But Lily didn't reply, preferring to leave the return cards and customary thanks to Aislinn.

The one time she had ventured into Diagon Alley for some desperately needed potion supplies, she had been stunned at the carefree way in which wizards and witches were roaming the streets.

'Have you heard? Have you heard?' they would say to each other, whispering about the magnificent Boy-Who-Lived, Ronald Bilius Weasley, the one who had vanquished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They laughed and sang, shooting spells off the end of their wands, content in the knowledge that they, at least momentarily, were safe from the clutches of Voldemort.

Lily returned to the Manor, bitter and disillusioned, and yes, angry. Voldemort defeated by a mere child? Ridiculous…absolutely insane. Her opinion of the intelligence of the wizarding world dropped again and she complained heavily to her mother-in-law.

"They're just…out there! Not being careful, placing all of their faith in some child! It's insane! Voldemort MUST still be around…"

Aislinn looked at Lily, putting down her teacup, her blue eyes shrewd.

"It seems that Voldemort has indeed disappeared, Lily-cariad. The people are happy, relieved. They don't care whether he is dead or vanished, as long as they have the feeling that they are relatively safe. The newspapers tell very interesting tales about this Ron Weasley, but rest assured that there are many among us who don't take this so lightly…but the people have been in darkness for so long…it is only natural that they should grasp this opportunity to celebrate."

Lily stood, her face a mask of pain and rage.

"BUT HOW DARE THEY? HOW DARE THEY CELEBRATE AND LAUGH AND BE HAPPY WHEN JAMES IS DEAD! HE'S DEAD! AND HE'S NOT COMING BACK! HOW DARE THEY WHEN MY HUSBAND SACRIFICED HIMSELF, AND THIS IS HOW THEY HONOUR HIM? BY…by…being frivolous…careless…"

Aislinn stood and walked towards her, taking the willowy figure by the hand and bringing to a large armchair near the fire.

"They have had their share of losses as well, cariad. This new boy brings them hope…and we have all been without hope so long…"

Lily face was bitter as she stared into the flames.

"If this Ron Weasley is so all-powerful, why didn't he save my husband? Why didn't he save James? Then Harry would still…and I…" She started to cry, and Aislinn looked worried as she petted the girl's back.

"He's a child, Lily. If what they say is true, then the Weasley babe wasn't even conscious of his actions…it was most likely a blast of self-defence. Perhaps something in his ancestry that…" She trailed off, and watched as Lily composed herself. The girl nodded stiffly, swallowing, and continued to brood in front of the fire until Harry's cry for food roused her.

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It was now almost seven weeks…seven weeks had passed for Lily and Harry, and most of the official paperwork had been taken care of. James' will had been read (everything went to his wife and son) and his things in the manor had all been stored up in the attic with his auror and school belongings.

Lily had barely ventured outside the grounds, and hadn't spoken to any of her old friends or acquaintances. Dumbledore had expressed his interest in talking to her several times, but she didn't have the will or energy to meet with the old man. Instead, she preferred to hide herself away, and Hadrian and Aislinn were happy to have her and Harry, a link to James, staying with them.

She moved into her own private wing with Harry, and spent most of her days with her son. Christmas was nearing and Harry was growing with every moment. He had dark curls that twisted around his face, and intelligent eyes, verdant, like her own. His hair had a copper shimmer, a legacy from her father's side of the family. His nose and cheekbones, that was definitely James. She had a softer, rounder face. Harry's would probably become more angular as he grew older.

Lily stroked the errant curls, looking out the window when it began to snow. Harry looked at the falling cotton balls with large eyes, but didn't say anything. He was a very quiet child, ever since James…

Softly she started to sing to him, rocking him, as they both watched the snow come down.

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"In winter fire is beautiful  
Beautiful like a song  
In winter snow is beautiful  
All of the winter long

And you, little son come safely home  
Riding the tail of the wind  
May you always come this safely home  
In winter, fire and snow

The day gets dark uneasily  
Darker and darker still  
And you are gone to Carnevale  
And I feel the winter chill

But you, little son come safely home  
Riding the tail of the wind  
May you always come this safely home  
In winter, fire and snow

In winter fire is beautiful  
Beautiful like a song  
In winter snow is beautiful  
All of the winter long  
All of the winter long"

She looked at the small boy in her arms, and held him even tighter as the last traces of light disappeared over the hills.

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Christmas was a quiet, but nonetheless joyous affair. Lily had briefly visited her parents and Petunia the week prior and it had been good to see her family again. However, their well-meant sympathy smothered her, and she had fled back to the Potter household for Christmas Day.

Perhaps, she mused, this was where she was meant to be. After all, this was where James grew up, and here it felt like there was still something of him left. Normally the Potters would have invited Sirius and possibly some old pureblood families to dinner, but the pain of James was still to fresh for all of them to indulge in hosting feasts.

There weren't many gifts, but the presents were tasteful and well chosen. Lily, for example, had ordered Hadrian a beautifully polished Irish Shillelagh, made of Blackthorn wood. It was possible to hide his wand inside, if you unscrewed the head of the cane which was shaped like a horse.

Aislinn smiled and beckoned the small household towards outside.

"Where are we going?" Lily asked as she buttoned up Harry's small cloak. Hadrian smiled at his wife who merely winked and Lily and Harry followed her out of the manor, around the back.

"I thought it time we gave Harry his Christmas present." Harry's grandmother smiled as she opened the stable door, and Lily shook her head slightly.

"Aislinn, really, he's too young…oh wow." Her mouth closed with a snap as her mother-in-law lead a black Friesian out onto the grass. The horse lifted it's head proudly, the massive body standing rock-solid, and Lily was torn between the safety of her child, and the magnificence of the animal.

"Lily-cariad, this young stallion, not even one, is for Harry. You know as well as I that we are a horse rearing family where I come from in Eire. I received him from my brother's farm; a pure-blood Friesian from the Ahearn Holdings. Harry will treasure him for years to come."

Lily finally nodded and lifted Harry a bit higher so he could see face to face with the animal. Wild dark mane hung in front of the creature's eyes. Harry raised a small arm out and Lily held her breath when the horse snorted and blew the fringe aside, but Harry giggled and stroked the velvety nose.

"He shall remain nameless until Harry is old enough to decide." Hadrian said as Aislinn lead the horse back into the stables. "Come, child, it is getting cold out."

Lily smiled faintly and put a squirming Harry down, taking him by the hand as they walked slowly towards the warmth.

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Harry turned two as time went by, then three, then four, and the years passed quickly for mother and son. Lily rarely ventured into the busy wizarding streets, preferring to order things she needed by owl.

She had started teaching Harry the basics of potions, which, really, wasn't exceptionally hard. It was rather a lot like cooking, and as practice, Harry's grandmother often made him watch as she and the two house elves made dinner, and before he was five, Harry knew the names of most spices and could tell you exactly which would be needed to season meat, salads or pasta.

When he was three his mother and grandmother had started him on fairy tales, with large pictures he traced with his hands. Harry was a very tactile person, and enjoyed being hugged, something that the three adults in the household frequently indulged in.

When he turned five, his grandfather Hadrian began to take him star gazing some night, and they would spend hours trying to identify constellations and planets until Harry fell asleep, curled tightly around the old man.

Hadrian also began educating Harry in Magical History, often taking Harry to obscure parts of the manor and dressing up like the Ancient Greeks or Egyptians, or high jacking the kitchen in an attempt to cook the way Medieval wizards had.

When age six came around, Harry had started to teach himself as well. His mother had strictly forbidden him from using a wand until he was old enough, but for now, learning the theory in his father's old books was just as interesting. James was barely mentioned in the family, although if Harry had a question he was sure his grandparents would answer him. His mother always gave him a sad smile and a hug, and that was enough for Harry.

Age six was also important because his potions work became more intensive, and Lily started giving him the proper foundation for Charms and Transfiguration. One of Harry's favourite days, however, was Sunday, when his mother would take him outside, into the large manor gardens, and they would work diligently, weeding and planting vegetables and tending to the fruit trees.

Lily would quiz him on the different plants he saw; which were poisonous, which ones had medicinal qualities and which ones were just plants. Lily often spoke of her time back in Hogwarts, but also spoke of the other Hogwarts schools, of trips she had gone on with her family, to Eastern Europe, The Netherlands, Portugal. Then at night Harry would dream of the exotic places his mother mentioned, and wonder if he'd ever visit them.

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Age seven, fast approaching, was a milestone in Harry's life. He would finally be old enough to learn how to ride the black stallion in the stables that he knew was his. There a few other horses, but none as majestic as that one.

He'd been scouring his grandmother's books for a good name for his horse. When Aislinn got upset she always switched into Gaelic and Harry adored the way the language rolled off her tongue. She had promised to teach him a few phrases when he turned seven, but he knew he would be predominantly concentrating on French (by his grandmother) and Latin (by his grandfather). Hadrian was also going to teach his grandson pureblood etiquette.

Whilst the Potters didn't buy into pureblood supremacy, they were of impeccable standing and there was, as member of the Potter house, a status to uphold. Lily was sceptical, but her father-in-law insisted, and Harry looked quite interested in what his etiquette lesson would entail.

The day before he turned seven, he was flipping the pages of an old storybook when a name jumped out at him, and he ran towards his grandmother.

"Mamó, I've found it! It's just right…"

Aislinn Ahearn-Potter looked up from her reading and smiled at her grandson.

"Found what, cariad?"

"A name for my horse!" The boy was bouncing on the balls of his feet and pushed the large tome towards her, pointing half-way down the page.

"Keir?"

The boy nodded fervently and the woman smiled, stroking his cheek.

"It is a good name, cariad. It means dark-skinned. It will suit your horse well."

Harry smiled and gave his grandmother a brief hug before tottering off to tell his mother, who was in the garden.

Age seven passed, and Harry's lessons intensified. He received assignments that he had to complete, and three nights a week the family would meet in the large living room, and talk about politics and other subjects they felt were relevant to the young boy's education.

Lily bit her lip as she watched her son's dark head bend over some maps with his grandfather. Was it wrong to keep the boy so isolated here? Lily couldn't bear to part with him; had grown much too used to having him around. But neither could she venture out into the world of the rabid dogs. Surely Harry was better off here, where he was loved, then to be hounded by the press because he happened to have disappeared for a few years.

The only thing Harry was really missing was the friendship with other children, but he never really expressed a want to go outside the manor and meet other wizarding families. Were they stilting his growth? Had they taught him everything save how to interact with others? She shook her head. No…no, Harry was better off here, near her. Near his grandparents, who loved him almost as much as she did. Near everything that used to belong to James. What he lacked in friendship he made up with his delight at the simple things.

After the rather large gift of Keir their first Christmas at the manor, there were no more presents. The older people had everything they desired and felt no need to emphasise this with material gifts. Harry didn't find it strange that he received no gifts for Christmas, and only one or two with his birthday. The family knew that if anybody needed anything, it would be provided for. Instead, festive holidays, like Solstice became more important, and the family returned more to the idea behind the celebration, rather than the modern spectacle it had become.

It was a testament to Harry's upbringing that he rarely complained about things. He had his fair share of tempers and mishaps…the time he tried to ride Keir against strict orders from his grandfather and accidentally rode into the shallow pond, for example. Or the time he disobeyed his mother and climbed a sturdy looking tree that turned out less solid than he thought, causing him to break his arm and collarbone.

But Harry was happy in the small world that his caretakers had created for him. As he grew older, he grew tall and lither, and his hair longer. He strove to grow it just like his grandfather, and was halfway there already.

For Winter Solstice that year, Aislinn took him via floo to a small town near the coast, where they picked up some necessary groceries and his grandmother took him for a hot chocolate. Harry's eyes shone with delight and Aislinn laughed as she wiped away the cream moustache.

He watched a few children having a snowball fight, and looked at his grandmother, curious.

"What are they doing, mamó?"

Aislinn put her gloves on.

"A snowball fight, cariad."

Harry looked puzzled.

"Why would they want to fight? Even with snow?"

His grandmother frowned.

"It's for fun, Hadrian. They do it because they enjoy it."

"Oh", said Harry, as he continued to watch the children. "Do you think I would have fun?"

Aislinn looked at her watch.

"Why don't you go over and find out. We can stay a few more minutes." She watched as Harry made his way over to the group, and asked politely if he could join in. Some of the children were hesitant to let the strange boy play, but then a girl pulled him over, saying he could be on her team, and that it was Christmas.

After twenty minutes, Harry managed to pull himself out of the melee of hands and feet and trotted over to his grandmother, his scarf flying and his cheeks flushed with colour.

"Let's go home, cariad."

Harry nodded and waved to the children before allowing Aislinn to grab his hand.

"Mamó?"

"Yes cariad?"

"I think this was the best Christmas ever."

His grandmother smiled.

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Turning eight was important. At least, Harry felt it was important. Well…Harry felt he was important, because he was turning eight. To celebrate his eighth birthday, he was allowed to choose two presents additional to what he would get from his family.

He'd thought long and hard. It wasn't an easy job as an eight year old (well, almost), to decide what to want, when he could have anything, but he thought he'd finally reached a good conclusion.

"Well Harry?" his grandfather said as he came into the kitchen where Harry was watching Aislinn put the finishing touches to his birthday cake. He'd often wondered why she didn't make a birthday cake for his mother and grandfather when it was their birthday, but he supposed that was one of those grown-up things he'd find out when he was older.

"I'd like a snake. And a friend." He added, before looking from one grandparent to the other, both who had their mouths open.

"A snake?" Hadrian exclaimed whilst Aislinn dropped her spatula whilst mouthing 'a friend'?

Harry's face fell when he saw his grandparents astonishment. He hung his head.

"I'm sorry", he whispered, "I didn't know it wasn't okay to ask for those things."

At that moment Lily came into the kitchen and raised an eyebrow.

"What happened?"

Aislinn was the first to close her mouth.

"Harry wants a friend for his birthday."

"And a snake", Hadrian added.

Lily looked from one to the other before kneeling on the floor to face Harry.

"Why do you want those things, Harry?"

The boy frowned and apologised again.

"Sorry mother, I…" but she pressed a finger to his lips.

"You don't have to apologise darling, I was just curious why you picked those things."

Harry was silent for a few moments before starting to recount the snowball fight half a year ago. Lily listened attentively the entire time and realised her son was finally taking the initiative to find people his own age.

"And why a snake, Harry?"

Harry spluttered.

"Well, you wouldn't have to buy me a snake, because there's already a snake in the garden outside who I talk to sometimes and he wants me to adopt him, but I said I couldn't until I'd asked you, and I thought if I asked for a snake for my birthday it would be easier like that because…"

"Harry-boy, did you say you talk to the snake?" his grandfather interrupted.

"Yes sir."

Hadrian looked at his wife, then glanced at Lily before bending down to Harry's level.

"Do you realise that you've received a very rare gift?"

Harry mutely shook his head. Hadrian put a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, you have. You're a Parselmouth, Harry. A very rare and ancient gift, to be able to talk to snakes. You remember our lessons on Salazar Slytherin? He was a parselmouth. Many wizards are wary of people that talk to snakes, because they fear what they do not know."

"Should I be afraid, grand-pére?" Harry looked worried, and the old man smoothed his hair, the wrinkles near his eyes creasing.

"No Harry-boy, you should never be afraid with a gift bestowed on you. That doesn't mean you shouldn't be cautious, but I…we trust you enough, don't we?"

Aislinn nodded and Lily smiled at her son, worried that he was making things more difficult for himself, but glad to see the smile back on his face.

"Harry, cariad", his grandmother called out before he could make his way into the garden to collect his snake. "There was another thing you wanted, wasn't there?"

Harry nodded, and scuffed his shoe on the kitchen tile.

"But really, I have the snake, and we'll be friends. And I have you, and Keir."

Lily's heart broke and her doubts resurfaced again. Had she done the right thing in keeping a boy away from his playmates? She just wanted him to grow up loved and protected from everything…but she couldn't protect him forever, she knew this.

"I have a suggestion, cariad."

Harry looked at his grandmother, eyes wide.

"Have you ever heard of an Owl-friend?"

Harry shook his head whilst Lily's expression cleared and she smiled radiantly at her mother-in-law.

"In the Daily Prophet, there are advertisements for Owl-friends, children that you can write to through Owl. How about we start off with that, cariad?"

Harry looked pleased and nodded and Lily smiled.

"We'll look through the listings together tomorrow, all right darling?"

Harry nodded again and scampered off into the garden, leaving Lily with Aislinn. Lily sat down heavily on a chair.

"Have I…done the right thing, Aislinn? In keeping him away from everyone and everything? Secluded with three adults?"

Aislinn reached out and patted her hand.

"Don't worry, Lily-cariad. There is plenty of time for Harry to be with friends. Soon he will go to Hogwarts and then we won't see him for a while. There will be people to meet there. Everything will work itself out."

Lily looked unsure but let the words of the old woman comfort as she saw Harry conversing avidly with the snake he was holding in his hands.

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As Harry grew older, the years went quicker. He took a more active interest in politics, and his education at home continued. He sat in on the meetings his grandfather had with the family solicitor sometimes, and read the Daily Prophet, but also the Evening Hex, discussing relevant articles with Hadrian. He accompanied his grandmother more and more on shopping trips, and with her help he developed a fine taste for clothes, and a good strategy in haggling.

Lily also ventured out more, into the muggle world, rather than the wizarding world, but Harry was delighted to see his mum become more social. They had visited his other grandparents a few times, who were nice, of course, but a little strange. They had also visited Petunia, who worked in advertising, and had an apartment in London. Harry was never quite sure if he liked his aunt; she was a lot more aggressive than his mother, and there were hard lines around her mouth and eyes. However, he could appreciate her keen sense of business, and he knew that his mother cared for her sister very much. Going to visit Aunt Petunia always gave Harry the opportunity to roam around London for a bit.

His mother, due to these visits, had become more relaxed, and Harry was discovering the muggle world on his own terms now. Once when he had just turned ten he'd stayed at his Aunt's on his own, for a weekend, and they'd explored the city, Aunt Petunia teaching him a lot about the life on the streets. After he'd returned he'd asked his mum for martial arts lessons, and now he went to his Aunt's twice a week, to walk from there to a local gym where he got taught capoeira, a sort of fighting dance.

He'd started owling a boy called Theodore Nott shortly after his grandmother had suggested the idea. Theodore liked reading and animals, and was, like Harry, a little closed off from the wizarding world. However, in Theo's case, it was because he and his mother were being ostracised, due to the fact that his father had been on Voldemort's side. Theodore had been quite open about this, saying he didn't want to write to someone who didn't know the truth. Harry had continued writing, even if Lily had been highly suspicious. But Theo's father had been killed by Aurors on the night Ronald Weasley vanquished the Dark Lord.

Harry had read all about it, only because it was assigned. He was more interested in Voldemort's rise to power, and the tactics he had used to sway people. He cross-referenced this with muggle dictators and was astounded by the similarities. That alone made him realise that purity of blood said nothing about a person…his mother was one of the most intelligent people he knew.

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Aiden, Harry's garter snake (who liked to think he was a dragon), was curled around Harry's wrist as he walked downstairs, finishing the last of what Aunt Petunia had said was a must read book for every child. Then again, most of Aunt Petunia's books were 'must-reads'.

It was almost time for his violin practice when a strange owl bearing a large beige letter flew in and dropped it on his head. He scowled, and Aiden hissed but the owl turned right around and left Harry to carry the parchment to the living room where his grandfather and his mother were sitting.

"An owl dropped this letter on my head," he announced, and handed it to his grandfather, who smirked before looking at the addressee.

"It's for you, Harry. From Hogwarts."

Before Harry could respond, Lily flew across the room, eyes wide.

"What? Already? No, you're not going Harry! I won't have it…not whilst Dumbledore is still teaching."

Harry stared in surprise at his mother, who never seemed to lose her cool. Her hair was plastered against her flushed cheeks and her eyes were wild. Hadrian stared at his daughter-in-law.

"Lily? Are you…?"

"That pompous, arrogant, holier-than-thou wizard is the reason James joined the Aurors! Because ALBUS thought it a good idea! Because ALBUS knew what was best. Because ALBUS…"

She broke off, wheezing, clutching her chest. Harry ran to her, and his grandfather shouted for his grandmother before gently helping Lily on the couch.

"What is it! What's wrong with her!" Harry asked, frantic, but he was pushed out of the way as his grandmother came bustling through.

"Is it a panic attack?" Hadrian asked his wife as she quickly cast some charms on Lily. Aislinn turned and shook her head.

"No, I don't think so. I think it's more serious than that…I think she needs to go to St. Mungo's."

"WHAT?" Harry shouted, his eyes tearing up. "NO! Mother!"

His grandfather turned to him.

"Harry, go to your room."

Harry stared at him defiantly.

"NO! I want to come! Please! Mother…"

Hadrian shook his head but Aislinn put a hand on his arm.

"Let the boy come, Hadrian. It will do him no good being here on his own."

Hadrian frowned, but by that time the floo to St. Mungo's was already opened, and he lifted his daughter-in-law easily, stepping through without waiting for the other two, who followed quickly.

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Lymphangiomyomatosis. It was a ridiculously long and complicated word that turned life in the Potter Mansion upside down. Harry's mother was currently at St. Mungo's, recovering from a very long, very serious operation that had removed the tumour from her lungs, but her breathing was still very laboured, and the operation had left a large amount of fluid in her lungs.

The medi-wizards recommended a move to a warmer climate, such as Greece or Italy. His grand-parents had looked at each other, and begun packing the minute the got home.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, eyes darting around his home. His grand-mother smoothed his hair.

"We're moving to Italy for a few years, cariad. We happen to have a house in Tuscany, and that's where we'll be moving to, with your mother."

Harry blanched.

"What about me?"

His grandfather stopped what he was doing, and knelt in front of the boy.

"You have a big decision to make, Hadrian. As you know, you have a place at Hogwarts, one of the best wizarding schools in the world. However, it's quite a distance from Italy, and your mother doesn't like it. There IS a wizarding school in Italy. Very prestigious, for the elite. There will be a lot of politics going on, and your grandmother and I aren't certain you will even be accepted. They do not take too kindly to foreigners. Also, the language will be a problem for you at first. It would be a lot easier to go to Hogwarts."

But the boy had already made up his mind.

"I'm going with you." He said, then looked at his grandmother. "Keir's coming as well, isn't he?"

She laughed and nodded.

"We're not leaving anybody behind, cariad. Not even that snake of yours."

So the Potters packed their bags, left instructions with their house elves and moved to Italy, where Lily could recover peacefully, and Harry could hopefully begin the second part of his life. And so it was, that by August 1st, Minerva McGonagall received a polite but brief not that Harry Potter would not be attending Hogwarts that year.

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	3. The In Between

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Title: Juxtaposition

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Rating: R

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Pairing: Harry/Draco

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WARNING: Alternate Universe and Slash in the later chapters.

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Summary: AU. What if Harry Potter wasn't the Boy Who Lived…what if everything went quite, quite differently and Harry was the sidekick instead. Is there really nothing special about Harry? Or can appearances be deceiving?

Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognise.

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Author's Note: IMPORTANT! This will be the last update for three months, as I'm travelling this summer and will have little to no connection to the internet. I will still be writing, so rest assured there will be plenty to post when I get back. In the meantime, shower me with reviews grins

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Review: I really don't beg, but please, please review. These chapters are quite long, and feedback makes my work all the more rewarding.

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Chapter Two: The In-Between

Harry loved Italy. There was a peace there, a relaxed way of life that England lacked. During the last month of the summer, Harry and Keir had ridden far and wide across the vast expanse of fields that surrounded their ancestral manor in Tuscany. On days that he wasn't on horseback, Harry spent hours with his mother in the garden. She couldn't do much but sit, yet she would always encourage him as he pottered around, planting and weeding, and creating an eye-pleasing atmosphere.

But the summer came to an end and in the last week Harry was extremely anxious if the elite Collegio Magica della Toscana would accept him. His grandfather had already told him not to get his hopes up, that his chances were very slim, that he would have to sit an entrance exam, but Harry was not to be stopped.

Everyday, he set aside three hours to study Italian, and he was lucky to have the knowledge of French and Latin. He went down to the little village surrounding their land, and spoke with the local people. Most were old, and at first treated him cautiously, but Harry had spent his whole life among grown-ups, and the locals soon warmed to the boy who looked like he could have been born in Italy. His hair had started the annoying habit of curling up at the ends, and the sun had done wonders for his pale England complexion. To his utter horror, however, he had, for the time being, stopped growing, giving him a frail appearance that belied his talents.

Four days before the term started, Harry received a letter. If Mr. Potter would like to come to the school immediately to take his test; very inconvenient timing, really, and not much chance, but if Mr. Potter was interested, then come today or not at all. Harry went.

With his sub-standard Italian Harry felt he did worse than he would have, and disheartened, he flooed home. Two days later the letter came, he had been accepted. His mother smiled and hugged her son tightly, glad he'd be able to come home in the weekends, and spend time with her, rather than go to Hogwarts. Hadrian and Aislinn took him to buy his things immediately; thin beige cotton trousers and short sleeved shirts, and the forest green sweaters and jackets with the school's logo, a wolf's head surrounded by olive leaves. The school didn't wear robes, only on special occasions, so Aislinn bought Harry a green dress robes which they agreed to keep at home. There were potions ingredients to buy, and books. There was no wand.

Harry looked at his grandfather, who nodded.

"The school does not operate like Hogwarts, Harry. There will be many changes. It may take some getting used to, but be proud you made it this far, boy." He ruffled his grandson's hair.

At home, Harry pleaded for a translating charm, that his mother, after hours of begging, applied. She made him promise to take it off after the first week, and Harry duly swore to learn the books off by heart before this.

That night, his trunk packed, his stomach swirling, Harry poured over the new texts. There was a potions book, that he, after some reading, realised he knew most all of already. The book on Herbology was fascinating, but he didn't think much of the book that grouped things like charms and transfigurations together. It seemed a little boring and simple to him. The books on History and Theory of Magic however, those he spent the entire night reading. He quickly realised that the hardest part would be doing the spells and focusing his magic. Without a wand, it would require a lot more energy and determination, but once he managed that, Harry felt he would be all right. The theory, after all, was something that was relatively familiar.

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The next morning Harry woke up early. He checked he hadn't forgotten anything last night before walking downstairs to the patio, where breakfast was being served. He went up and kissed his mother, a soft press of lips against her papery skin. She smiled, but her eyes told him how weary she really was.

"Grand-pére?"

His grand-father looked at him over the top of his newspaper.

"How are we going to get Keir to the Collegio?" The school had some of the most magnificent stables Harry had ever seen, and he had been looking forward to riding Keir on the school grounds.

"I'll bring him over later, Hadrian, don't worry."

Harry smiled, feeling better.

'_Harryyyy…I'm hungry….'_

Harry smiled down at Aiden, who had come in from the garden. Snakes weren't allowed at the Collegio, so Aiden had agreed, with the necessary grumbling, to stay at the manor. Harry privately thought that the manor was far better equipped to suit his snake's needs than a school full of children.

"Are you ready Harry?" his grandmother asked from the kitchen and Harry swallowed.

"I…think so."

His mother pulled him closer.

"Don't worry darling, it'll be the weekend before you know it, and then you'll be back here with us."

It seemed she said it as much for her own benefit as for his. He threw his arms around her.

"I'll be all right mother. I shall write you lots." His little face was earnest and Lily pressed a kiss to his temple.

"I'd like that." She said, and Harry ran upstairs to shower and change into his new uniform. Lily watched him go, and Hadrian smiled as he reached across the table and patted her arm. No words were needed.

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"Benvenuto, benvenuto, ad un nuovo anno all Collegio Magica della Toscana…Entri prego nel quadrato ed aspetti le istruzioni. Qualcuno sarà presto con voi."

Harry watched in awe as a large wizard with a rather intimidating moustache directed them into a large square, telling them to wait for instructions and that someone would be with them shortly.

The Collegio was made up of a large manor with three buildings surrounding it. In the distance Harry could see the stables. The school was small, as only the very fortunate were able to attend. Looking towards his left, he saw greenhouses, and behind that, a Quidditch pitch.

"How nice, a foreigner," someone snarled behind him. He turned around to see A tall boy with brown hair. He regarded Harry suspiciously. "I can't believe you actually got in."

The Italian was hard to follow, but Harry got the general idea from the boy's facial expression. Feeling heat rise to his cheeks, he averted his eyes, not willing to start anything when he just got here. He was hesitant to use his mediocre Italian, but he felt he ought to try and defend himself at least.

"My name is Hadrian Potter…I did the test like everyone else, I think I have as much…I think I am allowed to be here, just like you. I worked hard to get in here." He spoke slowly, sometimes stopping for the right words.

The boy tossed his head, and Harry noticed he had his hair in a clip, like most of the old pureblood heirs he'd seen pictures of. The boy regarded for a few moments before nodding.

"Hadrian. I am Paris. I will be watching to you. You must prove yourself, before you fit in here." He turned on his heel and left. Harry breathed out slowly. That had been an intense confrontation, and it wasn't even ten o'clock yet.

"Ah, Paris, he thinks a whole lot of himself. He's been here for two years, very popular. I guess in some way you should be honoured he spoke to you."

Harry turned to meet this new threat, but actually found himself looking at a tall gangly girl, with long dark curls and big eyes.

"I'm Blaise. Zabini. I live on the other side of the village, I've seen you riding your horse, and I called out to you once, but I guess you were too caught up in your thoughts. Did you bring your horse? We'll have to stable him next to mine; she's a mare, Cassandra, after the seer, even though I'm not much good at Divination."

Harry stared. The Italian had gone straight over his head, and Blaise looked embarrassed before repeating herself in English, only much slower. Harry grinned, and shook her hand.

"Hadrian Potter."

Blaise nodded.

"I know, I'm here to guide you around."

Harry looked confused, and turned to notice every child pairing off with an older student. He turned to Blaise.

"What year are you in?"

She looked shifty.

"Second, but between you and me, that's not likely to last very long." Tugging his sleeve, he followed her, watching and suppressing a smirk as she stumbled over a pale of water someone had left in the courtyard. However, by the time they ended up in front of the large manor he had seen earlier, he was panting. She looked apologetic.

"Sorry, sometimes I forget how long my legs are, and how long it takes for midgets for you to keep up with me."

Harry scowled and mumbled something very foul in English, which he translated after seeing Blaise's blank look. Her face cleared.

"No problem with that part of Italian then!"

They were off again, Blaise talking a mixture of English and Italian, and detailing the simple layout of the Collegio. The manor held all the classrooms, and practice areas. Behind the greenhouses was the Quidditch field. Two of the houses surrounding the manor were dormitories; boys on the right side, girls on the left. Due to the small number of students, everybody had their own room, two years per floor. The seventh years all shared the last house, to give them solitude when they had to study for their exams.

"Your test scores must have been very good, Hadrian…the Collegio doesn't accept more than twenty students per year, and usually they don't even fill that quota."

Harry gave her a shy smile.

"Your English is very good," he said, and Blaise lit up with pleasure.

"Really? My dad will be pleased to hear that." Seeing Harry's confused look she went on, "my parents are divorced. My dad moved to England, for business. I was going to live with him, but then I would have had to go to Hogwarts, and since my birthday falls right in between the two years, I would've had to wait half a year before attending this year. I was lucky enough to have an easy entrance test…otherwise I don't think I would've made it in here."

Harry gave her another smile as they walked towards the boys' house. A large picture of a wolf adorned the door, and Blaise opened it, waiting impatiently for Harry as he stared at the picture.

"Do they use a wolf because of the myth about the founding of Rome?" he asked, and Blaise nodded.

"The girls' house has an olive tree. Not as cool, but it's just for show, anyway." She led him up six flights of stairs before stopping at the top of a long corridor.

"First and second years are all the way at the top. The older you are here, the more freedom you get, and the more popular you are. First years get picked on, but you'll get used to it. They made the first and second years sleep here because nobody wants to walk all the way to the top."

Harry walked along the corridor, until he saw his name, _H. Potter_ on a door to his right. He opened it to reveal a spacious room, with a bed, a desk in front of a window, which gave him a view of the woods, a small bookcase in the far end of the room and a cupboard.

"The bathroom is at the other end of the corridor," Blaise said from where she was standing in the doorway. "Will you be all right, or do you need some help unpacking?"

"No", he shook his head, "I'm fine. Thanks for showing me around."

She waved it away and disappeared, leaving Harry to search for his trunk, which was on the other side of the bed. He hadn't seen behind the door, but as he closed it, a washbasin and mirror was revealed, and Harry looked around, quite pleased with his little room. It suited his purposes perfectly.

He was halfway through hanging his clothes up when there was a knock on his door. Before he could move, it opened and the boy, Paris, walked in. he surveyed the room with arrogance, taking in Harry half-full wardrobe, the picture of his family on the desk, and the completely stocked bookcase.

With a flick of his hand, the rest of Harry's clothes were in the cupboard, and Harry straightened. He had no wand, didn't know any defensive magic if it came to a fight, but the boy merely walked into the room and looked at the titles.

"Muggle books as well as wizarding. A nice broad selection." He turned and looked at Harry, who was trying to stop himself from gnawing his lip. Instead, he stood up straight, like his grandfather taught him.

"Your horse is here," Paris said as he walked back towards the door. "He just arrived; I've been instructed to tell you where to stable him."

Harry bit back a response, and hurried to follow the older boy, scowl on his face. He hated being treated like he was inferior.

The smell of the stables soothed him a little. Having grown up with horses, being around them worked as a calming factor on Harry. He lit up when he saw Keir's massive bulk. The horse was shaking its head violently and Harry could see the boy holding the halter was having trouble restraining him.

"Ke-ir!" Harry called, his voice lilting at the end. The horse snorted and turned towards the sound, and Harry raised his arms to embrace the thick neck.

"A monstrosity," Paris remarked behind him. "You'll have to stable it as far away from my mare as possible. I would hate to have to put it down if it got her pregnant."

Harry rolled his eyes and turned.

"Keir is not a monstrosity! He is a pureblood Friesian from the Ahearn Holdings, from my great-uncle's personal farm in Ireland!"

Paris smiled.

"Il cane piccolo ha denti."

Harry flushed and repressed a growl. He turned his back on Paris and steered Keir to an empty stable. The horse lowered his velvet nose to Harry's cheek, and blew through its nostrils softly. Harry's curls bounced, and he giggled. It was all right.

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Harry quickly found his rhythm at the Collegio. The lessons were challenging, and they required Harry's complete dedication, especially because of the language barrier. The teachers were not accommodating. If you couldn't keep up, that was no problem of theirs. He spent many of his weeknights in his little room, studying spells and practising the meditation techniques.

Harry had been surprised to learn that they wouldn't be doing any practical spells until after Christmas. The focus necessary to cast spells without a wand wasn't reached easily by young wizards and witches, and therefore they studied meditation and breathing techniques, which Harry found extremely interesting.

The Collegio operated on a very competitive level. There were no real friends; in the small school people strove to be the best, the brightest, to come out at the top. Still, Harry spent what free time he had with Blaise, having formed a strange but comfortable friendship with the clumsy girl. They would cheer for the Quidditch teams together (Blaise wouldn't join because she preferred her feet on the ground, thank you very much, and Harry didn't enjoy the competitiveness that even stretched to the games), they practised their fencing together, and Harry frequently helped Blaise with her homework.

It wasn't that Blaise was stupid; it was just that it took her longer to catch on than others. She needed something explained to her three, four times before it became clear, and Harry was happy to oblige. Some weekend she would come to the manor with him, and they would chat with Lily whilst tending the garden. When Harry went over to Blaise's house, he was at first intimidated by her step-father, a large Italian man whose voice (and posture) was hard to miss, but Mario soon taught Harry the art of Italian cooking, claiming that if Blaise wouldn't profit from his gift (she was too impatient) than Harry would become his protégé.

After Christmas Harry started Casting, a class that he excelled at because of his love for Magical Theory. It took most of the Italian students a lot longer to do their wandless casting, and Harry had to suppress a feeling of superiority. At the Concerto di Natale, he played the violin, and was grinning the entire night because his mother attended. Towards the summer, he began practising fencing and he and Blaise took several weekend trips to places like Rome and Venice.

Harry fell in love with Venice, with its canals, and bridges, and architecture, and he vowed to come back on day and bring his mother so she could experience the beauty for herself. Blaise scoffed at this and said that Venice was to be visited with a lover. Harry answered that maybe he would do that to.

Paris was always in the background. He was extremely popular for a third year, and his influenced reached far. He was Captain and chaser of one of the Quidditch teams, and a sure choice for a Prefect. He played cello in the school orchestra. He had top marks and many friends, and his eyes were always watching Harry. At first Harry found it uncomfortable to be observed so closely, but soon he started watching Paris as well, and the boy was a constant in his life Harry grew to expect.

The summer after his first year, Harry went to visit his Aunt Petunia for two weeks. While he was there he resumed his capoeira lessons and he followed his aunt around the law firm where she worked. Whilst in her office one day, he noticed the lack of a personal touch. There were no pictures of the family, or of a partner or anything.

"Petunia?" he called out to his aunt who was rummaging in the room next door. He'd been calling her Petunia for as long as he could remember, and he thought his aunt actually preferred it.

"Hmm?" She came into the room, looking at him questioningly. He gestured at the bare walls and desk.

"Why don't you have any pictures of us? Or of a partner or something?"

Aunt Petunia looked at him carefully before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of her desk as she did the same. He felt like a client.

"Well, Harry…one of the reasons is that I like to keep my private life and my work life separate."

Harry nodded, but frowned when it seemed his aunt was nervous about something. She was drumming her nails on the desk and glancing at him.

"I had a fiancé once…but the engagement was broken off."

Harry understood. Petunia had been hurt by some man, and didn't trust herself to love again.

"Did he leave you at the altar?"

He was surprised when she burst out laughing.

"No Harry, I left Vernon long before that. I realised I didn't care about him the way people who were contemplating marriage were supposed to care about each other. I don't like men."

Harry looked a little confused, and his aunt leaned back in her chair.

"I like women instead, Harry."

Harry gasped and clutched the armrest tightly.

"You're a…lesbian?"

Petunia laughed.

"Well, yes. But there is nothing wrong with people of the same sex having relationships." She said as she got up and moved towards a filing cabinet.

"Does mother know?"

Aunt Petunia riffled through some pieces of paper.

"Of course she does…and she loves me all the same. I think homosexuality is more accepted in your wizarding culture than in our world. Although some pureblood families, of course, are still insistent that the heir marry and produce offspring to carry on the family name."

Harry was appalled.

"You mean grand-pére is just going to force me to marry someone to have children!"

Petunia turned to face him, stacks of folders in her hands, an exasperated expression on her face.

"Of course not Hadrian, don't be silly. Your grand-parents love you very much; they would never force you into a marriage where they thought you wouldn't be happy. They would never pick your partner for you."

Her eyes were shrewd.

"Why…is there…someone you like?"

Harry thought of Paris, eyes always watching. He shook his head.

"No."

She smiled and perched on the edge of the desk.

"Some people in your life may stand against choices you make, Harry, but don't ever let society influence who you love. Unfortunately, a lot of people who prefer their own sex are forced to suppress it to live what is considered a 'normal' life. Most of the time, they are very unhappy, not being able to express who they really are. It's horrible."

Petunia looked sad and Harry reached over to grasp her hand and squeeze it. She shook herself out of her thoughts and got up; indicating Harry should follow her out of the office.

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Harry often thought back to that conversation with his aunt, especially when she began seeing a woman called Daphne. He remembered the light in her eyes as she told his family about her at Christmas, and as he met his mother's sparkling green irises, he knew no love like this could be wrong.

The happy feeling continued when in the summer after his second year of schooling, the entire family went to The Netherlands to watch Petunia get married to Daphne. The wedding gave Harry the opportunity to spend time with his maternal grandparents, even if he found them to be a little bit…odd. He remembered this trip especially because of the fact that his mother had been well enough to accompany them, something which made his heart feel very light and fluffy.

Second year passed quickly for Harry. He did exceedingly well in his classes, which spent more and more time merging into each other, until finally, Harry and his classmates no longer used timetables, but were owled each morning where to be and what to bring. The classes became more intensive, and Harry and Blaise were often up late in the Collegio library, where Blaise said that she was finally beginning to get the hang of 'that studying thing'.

For his twelfth birthday Harry had received a camera, and he spent long hours taking pictures and messing with light intensity and positions. Blaise complained that she never saw her friend anymore, that he was always in the darkroom developing pictures. Harry had grinned and started taking pictures of her; now Blaise complained her wouldn't leave her alone. It was an amusing situation.

In his third year, Harry participated in a year exchange to the Beauxbaton's Academy, in France. He settled in quickly, and enjoyed using the language after so many years, and the flow of the French education system. He was a bit disappointed in the attitudes of a lot of the students, but when they found out about his wandless casting, they traded with him to teach them small spells. Harry learnt how to resist Veelas, and gained a whole load of insight on many other magical creatures.

He kept in touch with his family as often as he could, writing them to make sure if they were taking good care of Aiden and Keir, who hadn't been allowed to come. There was little news filtering through to him from England; all the information he got was from his aunt, who was still in the throws of domestic bliss to offer any concrete facts. He was also still writing to Theo; the boy had managed to snag a place at a small school in Germany, and from the sound of it, having an amazing time.

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When he returned from France, half-way through the summer before his fourth year, he immediately went round to see Blaise, who he had missed terribly. They went for a ride, and once they had arrived at a small open field, they dismounted and sat in the grass, whilst the two horses grazed.

"I'm glad you're back, things have been SO boring." Blaise said as she plucked at the grass.

"It's good to be back. I missed you."

She smiled. It was quiet as they enjoyed each other's company. Harry settled back in the grass, watching the sky.

"Paris has been asking about you." Blaise said, grinning down at him. Harry blushed.

"He…he has?" He looked around the field before looking back at Blaise, still blushing. "What, err…what did he say?"

Blaise laughed as she flung herself down next to him.

"Oh, nothing much."

"Blaise!" He punched her gently on the arm, but she continued laughing.

"He was asking how you were, when you were coming back."

Harry bit his lip.

"Oh. He did his Owls this year, right?"

Blaise shrugged. Harry took over yanking out the grass.

"How do you think he did?" He asked, wondering about the Italian boy. Blaise threw her hands in the air.

"Madre del dio, how should I know! Why don't you ask him to come over…maybe on your birthday?" She grinned at him slyly, whilst he spluttered.

"NO WAY! What am I supposed to say to him? Anyway, I always spend my birthday with you, so…"

Blaise held up her hand.

"Err, not this year, Harry. I'm going to visit my dad in England. I tried to plan it before or after, but these were the only times he could get off work."

"Oh." Harry's face fell, but he sighed. "Well it's good you're seeing your dad…"

She elbowed him none too gently.

"You idiot, just owl him! You haven't got anything to lose. Besides, you just want to talk to him…nothing's going on, right?"

Harry remembered Paris' eyes, always watching.

"Yea, nothing." He smiled before standing up and offering Blaise a hand.

Once at home, he told his grandparents and mother about the idea, and they encouraged him to at least have a friend round on his birthday. So he sent a very polite, formal owl to Paris the next day, and received one back almost immediately, that yes, Paris would be there and was absolutely delighted to see him again. Harry wasn't entirely sure how to interpret this.

On the day of his birthday, he was sick to his stomach as he waited nervously for Paris to arrive. The two boys hadn't been on unfriendly terms, but neither had Paris let go of the blatant suspicion he carried against foreigners.

At five o'clock, the doorbell rang, and Harry skidded across the floor to reach it. He smoothed down his clothes hastily, and then he opened the door.

He found himself looking at a tanned collarbone, before stumbling back from the force with which he had opened the door. Looking up, he gaped at Paris. In the year he had been gone, Paris had become a man. He was tall, with a strong Quidditch physique. His hair was straight and long, tied at the nape like most heirs of pureblood families. His brown eyes sparkled with humour as he smirked at Harry, who could only stare at the vision in front of him. The boy was wearing white cotton trousers, a white shirt, and a beige sleeveless v-neck over the top. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, and the v-necked broad enough to show Harry a whole lovely expanse of bronze skin.

"Come…come in."

Paris obliged, and after tea with Harry's family, the two boys walked around the area surrounding the Potter manor. The sun hung low in the sky, and there was a pleasant breeze that tousled Harry's curls.

They stopped alcove of trees, where a wooden bench had been placed. Paris sat down, whilst Harry leaned against a tree. The silence was not as comfortable as with Blaise, mostly because Harry was hyper-aware of the person sitting only a few meters away from him.

"How…how did you do on your owls?"

Paris smiled, revealing a row of gleaming teeth.

"I got Outstanding for all of my subjects. As expected."

Harry smiled slightly.

"Congratulations."

Paris bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"My parents wanted to give me a broom, but I declined. There are worthier trophies to attain." He grinned at Harry, who was confused and stuck firmly to his tree.

"I heard you asked about me?" he finally said, hesitating, his soft voice carrying on the breeze.

Paris nodded again.

"Yes, I was. It was…strange, to not see you around everyday. It was a…unwelcome break from the norm."

Harry became a bit breathless as Paris shook his majestic head.

"It was…weird for me too." He finally replied, and swallowed when Paris stood up and stalked over to him. Harry felt himself very much cornered and cast into the role of prey. Paris stopped directly in front of him, one hand leaning on the tree behind Harry for support.

"And how was your…trip…to France. Did you meet many Veelas?" Brown eyes drilled into his own, and he was aware of how much space there was not between their chests.

"I…yes. Some. But I was taught how to withstand their charms. I learnt a lot of the myths about them aren't true."

Paris nodded, leaning down, breath ghosting Harry's lips.

"And why, foreigner, did you invite me here today?"

Harry couldn't think straight with this boy in front of him. The raw sexuality pouring from him was simply too much for Harry to handle.

"It's…it's my birthday." He whimpered as he could feel the blood pouring down into his groin.

Paris smiled, like a predator the second before going in for the kill.

"Well then Harry…Happy Birthday…" Paris finally claimed Harry's lips, and there was nothing sweet or gentle about it. He plundered the smaller boy's mouth, pushing into the warm body, pushing Harry up against the tree.

When air became a problem, they broke the kiss, and Paris lowered his forehead against Harry's.

"Siete un premio degno…"

Harry flushed and pulled away.

"I'm not some trophy to be won!"

Paris grinned and pressed a hard kiss against the smaller boy's mouth.

"Oh but you are…and I did."

Harry stared up at Paris, and realised he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

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And so began Harry's tumultuous relationship with Paris. His mother had known from the moment the boy walked in the door, a little bit of Harry was lost to her forever. Now there would always be some part of him she couldn't reach. She tried to support him, but like her parents-in-law, she felt Harry was entirely too young to make any serious type of commitment to someone like Paris.

Paris was doing his first year of preparation for his NEWTS, and Harry was trying to divide his time between Blaise, his homework and Paris. For some reason, Blaise preferred to avoid Harry when he was with Paris, and it hurt Harry that his friend couldn't be happy for him.

His relationship with Paris was odd, to say the least. Paris had enormous mood swings; he could be an affectionate boyfriend one moment, and the next be aloof and unkind. But, like in all relationships, Harry learnt to deal, and adjusted to his new lifestyle relatively quickly. He knew his grandparents and his mother frowned upon his relationship, and while normally he would never do anything to hurt them, he felt this was finally something that belonged to himself…to Harry.

For Harry's fifteenth birthday, Paris took him to Venice, and Harry thought that that must have been the day he fell in love with the older boy.

"What do you think of Venice, tesoro?" Paris asked, arm curled around Harry as they sat on the large piazza outside the Basilica. Harry breathed deeply.

"I love it here…I always have…thank you for bringing me here." Harry turned and gazed at his boyfriend before leaning forward and brushing his lips against Paris' mouth. Paris smiled and led the smaller boy back to their hotel.

That night, Harry saw a side to Paris he didn't know existed. The aristocrat hadn't spared any expense…the hotel room was a suite looking out over the Laguna Veneta, and there were silk sheets on the bed. Harry blushed as Paris steered him into the bathroom, but the older boy was very gentle when peeling off Harry's clothes, and guiding him into the Jacuzzi, which was filled with a citrus smelling oil. Harry relaxed as Paris kneaded his back, his shyness slowly but surely evaporating. Then Paris got up and pulled Harry out of the bath. Harry gasped as their bodies touched, but Paris only kissed him chastely before wrapping him in a big fluffy white bathrobe.

To Harry's surprise, his boyfriend had managed to sneak his cello into the hotel, and ordered him to sit down on the bed.

"This is a piece I wrote for you." Paris whispered as his fingers plucked at the snares. The sight of his naked boyfriend playing a song he wrote for him on his cello took Harry's breath away. Never had he seen a more beautiful sight.

"Did my heart love till now?" Harry whispered, "Forswear it, sight! For I never saw true beauty, till this night…"

Paris looked up, eyes sparkling.

"That was Verona, mi amore, not Venice."

Harry stood up as Paris put away the cello, stalking over to him. Harry's hand tightened on his bathing robe before he untied it and dropped it, watching Paris' eyes glaze over.

"I know", he murmured, "but it fit."

Paris reached out a trembling hand that ghosted over Harry's chest. Harry took a step backwards, watching as Paris followed him, leaning over him.

"Make love to me", Harry whispered and Paris pushed him back onto the bed.

"Ti amo…mi cuore fa male, ma ti amo."

Before Harry had time to register these words, Paris kissed him, and then there was nothing except the murmuring of voices in the hot July night, and the gentle lapping of the Laguna's waves against the stone walls of the city.

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For a while things were perfect. Harry entered his fifth year in a daze. He knew the OWLS were important, and he should concentrate on them, but every minute he could, he spent with Paris. A tiny nagging voice told Harry that it was too good to last, but Harry ignored it, and lived in bliss.

Christmas was nearing of Harry's fifth year at the Collegio, and he was falling behind in his work. Having been a top student for the past five years, he wasn't too concerned. Harry had big plans for Christmas…he wanted to tell Paris that he loved him, and have a long talk about their future. For Harry, his future had Paris in it.

However, not even Harry could prevent himself from noticing that Paris was withdrawing more and more from him. At first Harry blamed it on NEWTS, telling himself Paris had to study to get a good job after school, but Paris didn't stop hanging out with his other friends, and Harry was confused. And hurt. Very, very hurt.

The day before Christmas Harry finally convinced Paris to come over to talk. The small boy had been writing letters and crossing them out; practising to himself in the mirror, made flashcards, even, just to be able to get what he wanted out of his mouth. He felt he deserved an explanation as to why his heart was being put in the blender…

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The doorbell rang, and like almost half a year before, Harry ran to open it. Paris stood in the doorway, wearing a thick long white jacket, and looking like an angel as the snow fell about him. Harry swallowed.

"Come…come in."

Paris shook his head.

"No Hadrian…let's go for a walk."

Puzzled, Harry agreed and they went outside, wandering around the garden silently before Paris led them off the Potter grounds into an open field, which was covered with a blanket of snow. The thin jumper Harry slipped on was giving him no comfort and his teeth were chattering. Paris looked like he wanted to wrap his arms around Harry, but decided against it.

"Hadrian…I feel we've grown apart. I can't be tied down after I finish school and I…I…" Paris swallowed as Harry felt like he was going to be sick. "I don't love you."

Harry's head snapped up.

"That's a LIE!" he shrieked, "I can see it in your eyes! You're LYING to me!"

Paris shook his head.

"No I'm not! I don't love you…I…I'm going to marry someone else after I graduate."

The snow cried out in the night as it swirled about the two boys. Harry felt like he had been shot.

"Wh…what?"

Paris looked at the ground.

"I'm getting married after graduation. To the eldest daughter of the Medici family. We've been betrothed since birth."

Harry's throat hurt and his eyes were burning. He couldn't breathe…he couldn't…

"What?"

"I'm…betrothed."

Harry's hands clenched and before he knew what he was doing he had slapped Paris viciously.

"You bastard." The small boy's voice was low and controlled. "You complete bastard. You knew. You knew all this fucking time that you were going to break up with me, and yet you pretended to love me, SLEPT with me, let me believe there was a future for us. Was it FUNNY, Paris? Was it? Was it FUNNY to see how excited I was when I saw you? Was it FUNNY to take my virginity? I hate you! I fucking hate you bastard…I HATE YOU!"

Harry flung himself against Paris and started raining blows on his chest. His tears were blurring his vision, and there was no strength in his fists. Paris held onto him tightly till Harry, exhausted, slumped against his chest. Paris rocked him, as Harry shuddered with each breath in his arms.

"I love you. Oh god I love you so much." Harry whispered into the collar of Paris' coat. He looked up to catch the boy's eyes. The soft brown eyes were dull and there was wetness on Paris' cheeks.

"I love you too," he said and kissed Harry. Harry threw himself into the kiss, wanting everything, needing to claim this piece of Paris; this piece that that other person would never have. It was his! Paris was his!

Suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore, and yanked away.

"NO!" he cried out as he ran up and away from Paris, away from the love that wasn't his, didn't belong to him, wasn't his any more.

"HARRY! WAIT!" Paris yelled, but Harry didn't stop and ran across the fields. Behind him he thought he heard Paris following, but he couldn't be sure, so he kept running. He had lost all sense of direction, but he could still hear Paris breathing behind him, so he turned sharply and made for a cluster of trees.

"HARRY, NO! HARRY WAIT! COME ON!"

But Harry didn't wait. The branches whipped at his face as he ploughed through dark shadows. A rumble nearby made him stop and he saw the sky flash with lightning. Usually Harry loved thunderstorms, but he was cold, wet and broken, and all he wanted was…

"HARRY LOOK OUT!"

Harry turned just in time to see a large tree fall over, coming right at him. He froze, closing his eyes when he was pushed out the way. He opened them just in time to see the tree fall on top of Paris who was looking right at him. His boyfriend disappeared from view and Harry screamed in despair. Then he continued screaming when a large thick branch cracked on impact with ground, and knocked him off his feet, making him fall against another tree, his eyes just focused enough to see the branch come crashing down onto his legs. Blackness.

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Harry numbly sat near the hospital bed, where his comatose boyfriend was lying. The medi-wizards held little hope for Paris ever waking up. He was a vegetable, but Harry silently returned to his side every day. He had learned to apparate especially for this alone, and he knew this room like the inside of his heart…dead.

Harry had thrown himself into studying for his OWLS, and to no one's surprise, had once again risen far above the rest of his classmates. But it brought him no joy. Throat parched, he stood and grabbed his cane.

The impact with the branch had severed the tendons and crushed the bones in Harry's left foot and leg. They had been found too late for the medi-wizards to do anything about it, and Harry would have the limp for the rest of his life. Harry didn't care…it was a reminder of how he failed his boyfriend…how he should've waited, shouldn't have run, should've let him explain.

Paris' family had been by often, but they barely spoke to the pale boy sitting like a ghost at the head of their son's bed. They didn't forbid him from seeing Paris though, which Harry was grateful for. Every night his grandfather had to come to the 'ospedale' to collect him, because Harry would rather waste away beside Paris than live in his own house. Near the wood. Where he had as good as killed Paris.

However, the faint hope still lingered in him and he held onto that small thread with both hands. People had been known to come back from comas before. Paris was strong, and had the will to live.

"I love you", Harry whispered every night before leaving. "Come back to me. I need you. I love you."

They would work through it, when Paris woke up. They would find a way to make it work, even if he still had to get married. There were ways around it. They could make it work.

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Harry finished his last OWL with something akin to relief. This was it. He was free to spend all of his days with Paris now. He would read to him, talk to him…remind him of the times they had spent together. That way, Paris had no choice but to wake up! He had to…he…had to.

But when he arrived home, he found his grandparents packing up all of their belongings. His mother was sitting in the living room, staring out the window, a letter in her hand.

"What's going on?" Harry said, his voice suspicious.

"The war's begun. Your mother got a letter from your godfather. Voldemort has risen. We're going back to England." His grandmother briefed as she and her husband continued their frenzied packing.

"What?" Harry said, voice quiet. Lily turned to him.

"Get packing. We're going back to England."

Harry stared before exploding.

"NO! WE CAN'T! NO I'M NOT GOING! I WON'T GO - I HAVE TO STAY HERE WITH PARIS! I'M NOT GOING TO ENGLAND - YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! PARIS NEEDS ME - I WON'T GO - I WON'T!"

Lily stared at him, face voice of emotions.

"Go pack, Hadrian. Now."

He turned his back on her.

"Forget it!" He said, but she spun him around and smacked him across the face. He stared at her, stumbling back as she winced and dropped her raised hand.

"Harry…Harry I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I'm just so scared…I…HARRY! COME BACK!"

Harry had turned and fled, out the door, and to the hospital.

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They found him eventually. Everything was packed and they were ready to go. Lily was pleading with her son, but Harry refused to look at her, much less speak to her. Aislinn observed this with a worried brow, but her husband ushered both of them out, leaving him alone with his grandson.

Harry looked at him, and Hadrian stared at eyes that had been so lively once. Now they were a broken shell of what Harry had been. But he straightened. There was war going on. There were people needed to oppose the Dark. And the Potter family was one of them.

"I will give you five minutes to say goodbye, Hadrian." His grandfather said, "If you don't come out after that, I will bring you out by force. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, trembling. His grandfather left, and Harry turned to Paris, smoothing his hair, watching the sunken cheeks and pale skin of his boyfriend.

"I will come back for you," he promised fiercely. "I WILL come back for you - I love you. Don't you ever, EVER forget that. I will come back for you." Harry bent down and kissed the ashen lips, squeezing Paris' hand before taking off his father's locket, which his mother had given to him, and slipping it around Paris' neck.

Then Harry was out the door, and the Potter family off to England. They were hailed as heroes returning in a time of need, but Harry had forgotten how much he disliked England. How lonely, and cold, and grey it was. Even the Outstanding he got for all his OWLS did nothing for him.

And with dread in his stomach, he thought of how, in a fortnight, he would have to start a school he knew nothing about. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

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	4. Hogwarts

**Juxtaposition**

_Please Review. These chapters are quite long, and feedback makes my work all the more rewarding._

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**Chapter Three: Hogwarts**

"You will be sorted in the Headmaster's office, along with another new student the day before school starts. I'll bring you to the train on August 31st. You've got all your books, right?"

Harry stared out the window as his grandmother rattled on. Harry had barely spoken since the Potter family had returned to England. The home where Harry had scores of happy memories from his youth was darkened by the fact that he had left his heart in Italy.

His mother had been recovering remarkably well in Italy, so the move had been approved by her medi-wizard. Harry hadn't spoken to his mother since she had slapped him. He understood, theoretically and logically, that the war was important; that his family had needed to go back. But he didn't understand why he couldn't have stayed in Italy. With Paris. Paris was more important than some stupid resurrected freak. Everybody knew Ron Weasley was going to kill him anyway.

Blaise's family would have been happy to take him in! His best friend had been devastated when she heard that Harry had left.

"Who's going to help me with my NEWTS!" she wailed through the Floo. Harry offered to answer any questions she might have, and made her promise to visit Paris. Blaise had quietly agreed and Harry had been grateful.

Now, he was anything but grateful. The fact that he was going to have to do his last two years at a strange school with a completely different system irked him to no end. He'd had a rhythm, a certain way of doing things, which he was sure would be disrupted by the English school, and he still remembered things he had read about Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster. He didn't trust someone who was that old and still in power.

Sighing, Harry packed his trunk before going downstairs, thinking he might take a trip to the stables. Keir, sadly, couldn't come to Hogwarts (another reason why Harry loathed the school) and Harry was forced to leave him behind. As he passed the living room, however, he heard his mother's voice.

"He hates me!"

"Nonsense, Lily-cariad," came the soothing voice of his grandmother. "He doesn't hate you; he's just gone through a terrible, terrible ordeal, and he's not dealing with it. He's only sixteen Lily, and wise beyond his years, most of the time. Maybe this is his rebellion, his way of pushing us away from him. Every teenager does it - every child grows up."

Harry, disgusted, walked out the door. So it was just a 'phase', was it? It was just a 'phase' wherein he had rebelled, become gay, gotten a boyfriend, lost his virginity, and killed said boyfriend. Well he was all ready to grow out of it.

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"Harry we have to go!" His grandmother called as Harry spent a few last minutes whispering to Keir. Then he sent his letter to Paris with their family owl, to Blaise, so that she could take it and read it to the comatose boy.

He appeared in front of his grandmother silently, and he could tell he startled her, which mollified him slightly. At home he could walk without the cane, because everything was quite close together, but he knew at school he would have to cart the blasted thing around with him.

It was actually quite useful; he had received it for his birthday this year - his only gift, because Harry felt sick accepting presents when his boyfriend was in the hospital. The cane was made from Irish oak, very sturdy, and had a wolf's head on top. Harry could unscrew the top of it, and he stored a long hunting knife he had in there, thinking that one could never be too sure nowadays.

He gripped his cane, fondly named Faolan, wolf in Irish, and moved towards living room. There was a man with dark messy hair standing near the fire place, holding his mother in his arms. Harry immediately scowled and mentally pulled the man far away from his mother.

"Harry," said Lily, turning around when she heard him walk in, "this is your Godfather, Sirius Black."

The man smiled heartily but Harry only inclined his head, pleased to see the smile fade a little. Lily looked flustered between the two males and shot her grandmother a plea for help.

"Sirius is coming with us to take you to the station Harry." Aislinn said, and Sirius nodded.

"Oh", said Harry, turning his back on the people and muttering an _accio_ to get his trunk downstairs. A wand had been on the list of requirements, but Harry hadn't bought one, refusing to temper his power through a conductor.

"Are you ready Harry?"

Harry nodded at Aislinn, who shrunk his trunk and pocketed it.

"We'll apparate outside the wards." She said to Sirius who raised his eyebrows.

"The kid can apparate?"

Harry snarled.

"The 'kid' is standing right here, and would appreciate it if you didn't talk like he didn't exist."

Sirius stared at Harry, probably trying to reconcile the father with the boy before him. Lily gave Harry a reprimanding glare, but Harry gave her a cold look.

"Goodbye mother", he said stiffly, not coming any closer. Lily's face fell and Harry felt like an asshole, but when he remembered Paris lying in the hospital, and the sea between them, and how his mother had always trusted him until he started to spend time with other people his own age…he didn't feel bad at all.

Harry walked out of the door and towards the gate, hearing Sirius catch up behind him.

"Harry what's wrong with you! That's NO way to talk to your mother! James would be ashamed of…"

Quick as lightning, Harry turned around and held a ball of fire in the palm of his hand.

"Don't speak about things you have no idea of, Black. What is between my mother and me remains between us. We survived fine without you, we…I don't need your misguided feelings of guilt for neglecting your godfather duty. And don't mention my father again."

The fire extinguished into a tendril of smoke and Harry hobbled out of the gate, waiting patiently for his grandmother as he lifted his leg slightly off the ground. Sirius gave him a cool look, but there was concern in his eyes.

"Does it hurt?" He asked and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes." He answered and remained quiet, seeing Sirius shake his head from the corner of his eyes. Once Aislinn had joined them, he pictured Hogsmeade and apparate away. The group apparated onto the Hogsmeade Station platform, where Harry saw a carriage, being pulled by a skeleton horse. The horse was vague though, and by the looks on both the faces of his companions, they couldn't see it. The horse spread its bony wings, and suddenly Harry knew what they were. Thestrals. But…it was only possible to see thestrals if you had seen death…Harry froze. Paris. Surely he wasn't…his mind races through the pages he had read on these creatures, and breathed a sigh of relief as he remembered that it had to be actual death.

By the looks of it, neither his grandmother nor Sirius had ever seen someone die in front of them before. Harry found this a little strange, seeing as Sirius was an Auror (he thought), but he shrugged it off. Why he himself could see them he didn't wonder about. He chalked it up to one of the flukes in the universe, like his parseltongue.

They got into the carriage, and Harry silently looked out the window as the carriage started moving towards Hogwarts. The sun was shining, but it was a pale yellow Autumn sun - almost as if it had given up. The trees looked more eerie than welcoming in the gathering dusk, but Harry perked up a little at the scenic view. There was plenty of room for him to roam about here.

His first look at the castle made him gasp slightly. He had prepared himself to dislike it, but pictures didn't do the majestic buildings justice. The castle with its many turrets and towers loomed over a great lake, and was almost carved out of the mountain in some places. So the exterior wasn't bad; Harry still needed convincing. Sirius bid them goodbye as they entered through a pair of massive doors, saying he had to go speak to someone. Aislinn walked through the empty halls with a stately grace, and Harry, though he leaned heavily on his cane, looked every bit the travel weary prince.

They stopped in front of a gargoyle, which sprang aside for them immediately. Harry and his grandmother stood the on the staircase as it began to revolve upwards. Aislinn knocked on the door, and an ancient voice called for them to enter.

The headmaster's room was a bit of an oddity to Harry. There were many useful magical objects, but they were strategically placed as to not attract too much attention. Instead, obscure and almost silly inventions had been pushed to the foreground, and when Harry saw the jar of muggle sweets on the headmaster's desk, he immediately blanked his expression.

This was a very dangerous man. He wanted the students to think him a little odd, a little peculiar, but perfectly harmless, even if he had a bit of power. But the old wizard who was currently greeting his grandmother was anything but powerless. Harry could feel the magic tingling in the room; the Collegio had practised many times with magical awareness. Harry chanced a glance at Albus Dumbledore, and found shrewd blue eyes assessing him. He gave his eyes that extra glazed look, and the older wizard ignored him again.

"I'm leaving now, Hadrian," his grandmother suddenly broke in. "Remember you can always owl us and we expect to hear from you soon! Just write if you need anything. Be wise Harry, and strong, and cunning and loyal. It will pass cariad. Allow yourself to heal."

She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and he suddenly wrapped his arms around her, not wanting to let go. She gently pried them loose, and tipped his chin up.

"I mean it, cariad. Allow yourself to heal."

"I can try", Harry whispered, knowing that as long as Paris had a chance of waking up, Harry would hold on.

Then she left, and Harry was left alone with his new headmaster. Dumbledore gestured to a seat, and Harry thankfully took it; his leg was starting to twinge a bit.

"So Harry," Dumbledore peered over his glasses at the faerie-like boy in front of him. Wispy dark curls, and green eyes that looked like they might have sparkled once. An aristocratic face, angular with high cheekbones that made the boy look ethereal. He wasn't beautiful or handsome as much as strange. The veil of misery that surrounded him brought a dark shadow to his face, which made his entire appearance more sinister than he could have been, thought Dumbledore. The old man thumbed through the pages in front of him.

"You have excellent marks, Outstanding for all your NEWT subjects, which are almost all the subjects given here, plus a few extra, I see. Casting, interesting, we don't offer that but…yes, yes. Hmm."

Harry didn't move as he watched the headmaster view his life. The wizard peered at him.

"You didn't play Quidditch, before the accident?"

Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore frowned.

"Pity, pity…James had such talent, I'm sure…" but he couldn't miss the sneer that flashed across Harry's face. Dumbledore frowned; the boy was nothing like he would have thought.

"Harry, may I see your wand?" He asked suddenly. Harry shook his head.

"I don't have one."

Dumbledore looked mystified.

"What do you mean you don't have one? It was on the requirement list…"

"I don't use a conductor for my magic - it cripples the power and makes me dependent on it. At the Collegio, we learnt that magic is within ourselves, so it is our bodies that we use as conductors."

Dumbledore frowned.

"I must insist, Harry, that you use a wand. Wandless casting could cause great suspicion, especially since you are a new student starting at a time when the war is just upon us."

Harry shrugged and stood up.

"That is not my problem. I will not use a wand. Shall I leave?" He pointed his cane to the door, and Dumbledore hastened to stand as well.

"Of course not dear boy…well then, if you're sure…I feel you will have a lot of explaining to do, but I shall put my doubts aside for now."

Harry nodded, and sat back down. He looked at the old man.

"There is another thing, sir." He raised his cane to show a coiled up Aiden, who blended with the wood so that he was almost invisible. "I didn't read anything about pet snakes, but since you couldn't stable my horse, I wasn't going to part with my other pet."

Dumbledore looked at the boy in front of him, and saw a boy that was more a mixture of Aislinn and Hadrian Potter than of James and Lily Potter. He would have to pay his friend Hadrian Potter a visit soon, and somehow try to slip Harry into the conversation; maybe he would discover some of the boy's secrets. It did not occur to the headmaster to just ask Harry.

"Very well Harry, your snake may stay."

Harry gave a short nod, and waited patiently for the next bit.

"Now, since you received Outstanding in all of your seventeen OWLS, you have a free choice as to which subjects to follow. Here is the list." He gave Harry a list of classes and the boy leaned over them.

"Potions," he said immediately, eyes quickly scanning the list, "History of Magic, Herbology, Arithmancy, Astronomy and Ancient Runes."

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"You…do not wish to become an Auror? Because if you did you would have to include Transfiguration, Charms and DADA, and drop the last three you mentioned."

Harry looked back at him.

"I don't want to go into the profession that killed my father, thank you very much."

Dumbledore looked abashed.

"Of course not dear boy, of course not."

Harry ground his teeth at the patronising voice.

"However," Dumbledore continue, "because Astronomy is a self-taught class with an assessment at the end and a portfolio, I strongly urge you to take Defence Against the Dark Arts as well. It is a necessary precaution during these dark times."

Okay, I'll bite, thought Harry.

"All right", he said and Dumbledore smiled. He walked towards a shelf and pulled off a tattered looking hat. He offered the hat to Harry, who shook his head in exasperation and put it on.

"_Hadrian Potter, greetings."_

"Greetings Hogwarts Hat." Harry replied, and he felt the hat give a funny little bow.

"_Have you finally come to be sorted?"_

"Indeed I have. Would you tell me about the Houses?" He could almost feel the hat vibrate with pleasure that someone was taking an interest in it.

"_There are four houses, this you know. You know their names, their values, and the opinions of each. Much has changed since you last read 'Hogwarts: A History' Hadrian Potter. The rift between Gryffindor and Slytherin grows ever wider. You have an aptitude for both, but if you wanted to heal a rift, placing you in either House would be counterproductive. If I were to place you in Hufflepuff, no one would take you seriously, and I sense, Hadrian Potter, that you are someone to take very seriously. There is a veil obscuring your mind from me, but I know this, Shadow Child; that you have yet a part to play in things. For now, you must sit back and observe, and watch…and heal. RAVENCLAW!" _The hat called out, and Harry, who had been listening to its voice completely spellbound jerked upright.

Dumbledore was looking pleased.

"Ah, Ravenclaw. You take after your grandmother then."

Harry said nothing, and waited patiently for the headmaster to change his robes. He planned on wearing them as little as possible, making a mental note to transfer the badge onto his grey uniform sweater before attending classes.

"This is your schedule," Dumbledore pointed, "and the classrooms."

With a nod, Dumbledore dismissed him, and Harry started to walk out the door just as another boy walked in. The two boys stared at each other.

"Theo? Theodore Nott?"

The boy started to smile before clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"Hadrian Potter! I thought your face looked familiar - I must've stared at the picture of you and your horse a hundred times when I got it!"

Harry grinned for the first time in days.

"Why are you here? I thought you were in Germany?"

Theo nodded.

"Yea, I wanted to stay, but mother thought otherwise, what with the war breaking out and all." He watched Harry's face cloud over. "I suppose you know all about that though, and reaping the 'benefits' from your family's hysteria."

Harry nodded grimly before the boys were interrupted by Dumbledore giving a polite cough. With a roll of his eyes, Harry leaned towards Theo.

"I'll speak to you soon, all right?"

Theo nodded and clasped his hand firmly.

"Definitely."

"Oh Harry," Dumbledore added right before he left, "if you could speak to Ms. Chang, she'll know everything that's going on, she's Head girl. She'll be happy to help you out."

Harry left.

xxxxxxxxxx

As Harry was walking across the hall, he realized he had no idea where the Ravenclaw common room was. In the distance he saw a professor and he clutched his cane tightly.

"Excuse me?" He called out, and the shape stopped. Harry struggled to catch up but it was difficult to walk down the long hall. A tall, hook nosed man with dark, greasy hair was waiting for him, eyes narrowed.

"Thank you for stopping sir. I was wondering if you could tell me where the Ravenclaw common room is. I'm a new student."

The man looked at him.

"Theodore Nott?"

"No sir, he's still at the Headmaster's office. I'm Hadrian Potter."

As soon as he'd said it, he wanted to kick himself as the dark professor's face was pinched with dislike.

"Well, well, well…the prodigal son returns."

Harry remained quiet. He had no clue who this man was, but he didn't seem to like him much. When he didn't answer the man seemed to examine him, lingering on his cane and his Ravenclaw badge.

"Master I'm HUNGRY!" Aiden lifted his head sleepily.

"Snakes are not allowed at Hogwarts." The man said but his voice was neutral.

"I know. But he goes where I go, since this castle with all its acres of land is seemingly too incompetent to stable my horse; ever though I believe there's a whole herd of thestrals here, is there not?" Harry thought he saw a smirk flicker across the man's face/

"I will feed you soon, fatso." Harry responded and Aiden stuck out his forked tongue before going back to sleep.

"You're a parselmouth!"

Harry nodded.

"Always have been. May I have you name sir, since apparently you have me at a disadvantage?"

"I am Professor Snape. Hand me your schedule."

Harry handed it over without complaint, and watched as Professor Snape scanned it, eyebrows rising.

"No transfigurations or charms?"

"They don't challenge me."

"No grand illusions of becoming a famous Auror?"

Harry scowled. What was it with these people and expecting him to follow in his father's footsteps?

"None whatsoever." He growled.

"You chose these yourself?" Professor Snape asked, tapping the schedule.

"Harry nodded.

"I got Outstanding for all my OWLS at the Collegio."

Snape tried to hide it but Harry could see he was impressed.

"I am your Potion's professor. I expect your very best. I have time for the arrogance and laziness your father was partial to."

Again he watched Harry for a reaction, but Harry gave none. James was who he was. Harry loved him as a son, but he hadn't known the man, so his personality was a mystery. Obviously, Professor Snape had some bad memories.

After a glance at Harry's cane again, Professor Snape gave him back his timetable.

"The Ravenclaw common room is down these stairs and then through two halls. The door guardian is a big raven. You have the password?"

Harry nodded even though he had no clue. His leg was hurting and he needed to rest.

"Potter."

"Hadrian, sir, if anything. There were Potters before, and maybe there will be Potters after me, but I'm Harry. I'd hate for you to confuse me with my father."

The subtle reprimand was noted, and Snape's eyes gleamed.

"You should have been in Slytherin; I am Head of Slytherin House."

Harry nodded his head respectfully.

"I will come to collect you tomorrow before the feast, and you will be ready to go at six, understand?"

Harry nodded.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. If you see Theodore Nott, will you please tell him we'll catch up tomorrow sometime?"

Professor Snape looked curious - as curious as a man with such a dour expression could - but nodded and swirled away, his robes billowing. Harry thought that was something the man had practiced a lot.

He finally made it to the Ravenclaw common room, and as before, the statue moved for him. The NEWT years (6 and 7) had their own rooms. Harry quickly found his room, up a flight of stairs and down a hallway to the right.

It was quite big, with stone walls and floor. A desk was facing the window, which looked out over a dark forest. A large oval carpet; Persian looking with predominantly dark blue, but also silvers and golds worked into it. There was a double bed in the corner and Harry magicked off the draper and canopy, since he hated being enclosed. With a snap of his fingers and a string of words, his trunk was unpacked. Then Harry transferred the Ravenclaw badge to his school sweater.

When he was done, he sat in a large, cozy armchair near the small fireplace and put his leg up. Placing Aiden on the bedside table, he picked up his Potion book and began to read.

xxxxxxxxxx

The next day Harry was too busy orientating himself to catch up with Theodore Nott. He had a long talk with Professor Flitwick, his head of house; who, whilst disappointed that Harry was taking charms - 'your mother was a natural' - was somebody that Harry felt he could trust. Then at six o'clock sharp, after a few hours of resting his leg he was ready for professor Snape, who actually arrived early and came into his room to get him.

Harry suppressed his nerves about the other students coming. He saw Theo, but couldn't do much more than wave, for at that moment students started piling into the great hall.

The seats around him filled up quickly and he got many curious looks. He saw a short Asian girl with 'Head girl' prominently pinned to her chest. Cho Chang. He remembered the Headmaster's words. The girl didn't look very obliging. Instead, she looked mopey; almost suicidal. He shivered and decided he would most definitely NOT talk to her.

A little whoop and cheer went up opposite him, and he saw a red headed boy surrounded by three boys and two girls. Gryffindors. They seemed an unruly bunch. All of a sudden he realized who the boy was. Ron Weasley…the boy who lived.

Harry studied him intensely. There didn't seem to be anything miraculous about him but well, appearances could be deceiving. It was a little disappointing though, because the sooner Ronald finished off the dark lord, the sooner he could go back to his boyfriend, and away from all these silly rules in this less than adequate school.

A petite girl with a red braid and glasses sat down next to him.

"That's my brother you're trying to burn holes into."

Harry looked away from the famous Weasley to the one next to him.

"Sorry?"

"Oh no, it's quite all right, I hate the prat."

"Oh", said Harry. The girl raised an eyebrow.

"You're not a fan, are you?"

Harry laughed.

"No."

She smiled and stuck out her hand.

"Good. Ginevra Weasley."

"Hadrian Potter."

She smiled again, but the Headmaster stood up and their conversation was finished for the moment.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts."

People clapped and cheered. Harry looked at Ginevra and she rolled her eyes. Harry felt somewhat more relaxed. The Headmaster continued on this vein for sometime and Harry nodded off.

Ginevra elbowed him in the side and his head snapped up. He saw the Asian girl - Cho, that was it - glare at him from the end of the table.

"It's almost over. Look, food's here."

Harry watched with growing irritation as Dumbledore murmured nonsense words whilst concealing a short hand movement. Food appeared on all the tables and Harry rolled his eyes at the show of wandless magic.

If those were the things Dumbledore used wandless magic for, Harry's disappointment in the old man seemed justified.

Just as everyone was finished, the doors opened and a tall man walked in, a torn traveling cloak around him, his yellow eyes observing the room before landing on the headmaster, and nodding respectfully. Harry sensed the danger that surrounded the man, and he leant over to Ginevra.

"Who's that?"

"My dear students, please welcome your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Remus Lupin. Professor Lupin is a werewolf, with a steady supply of Wolf's Bane and a respected friend. Your parents were made aware of this beforehand, so no, Mr. Malfoy, there is no need to write to your father."

Harry glanced at the Slytherin table, where a murmur of dissent had arisen. His eyes found Theo's, who was sitting next to a boy with an aristocratic chin and silvery hair. Harry winked and Theo grinned back.

When he turned back towards the table, he saw Snape throw a foul look at the new professor. It didn't take long to realise where the steady supply of Wolf's Bane was coming from. The red headed girl beside him gave him a nudge and he got up. He saw her eyes flick towards his cane but her face remained neutral and she made no move to assist him, which he appreciated.

Suddenly he knew he was being watched. He could feel eyes staring at him from various points in the room. He met the headmaster's straight on, before nodding. Then he saw the amber eyes of the wolf focused on him. He looked back at the man who had been a friend of his fathers, but didn't nod. The look alone was all the acknowledgement necessary.

Still Harry felt watched, and he turned around to the Slytherin table, where, save for Theo, there was not a friendly face to be found. Lastly, he heard, more than saw a group of Gryffindors, with Ron Weasley at the head.

"Heya Gin! Who's the gimp?" The boy who lived gave him a friendly look, but having spent most of his life with adult, and reserved ones at that, Harry was shocked. Who the hell did this boy think he was?

"Ron Weasley." The redheaded boy stuck out his hand, jostling his sister out of the way.

"Hadrian Potter." Harry replied, only because politeness required it. He released the other boy's hand almost immediately, and looked at Ginevra.

"We have to get to our common room." She sneered and Harry followed, nodding goodbye.

"I HATE him!" The girl burst out as they were walking down the corridor. "He's been made to think the world of himself, and one day I know he's going to be disappointed. He's got his heart in the right place, but he's no hero…and the longer he keeps pretending, the bigger the fall.

Harry listened as Ginevra went on and on, and saw her for who she was. An intelligent young girl on the verge of womanhood, who had been isolated by her family…first by being a girl among boys, then by being the youngest and then by being sorted into Ravenclaw; which Harry could tell was her way of rebelling. Deep inside her, Ginevra craved acceptance and through her brother's continued teasing she was drifting further and further away from the one thing the Weasleys prided themselves in: family.

Harry watched as her blue eyes moved behind her glasses.

"You were never even considered for Gryffindor, were you?" Harry asked. Ginevra stopped and appraised him.

"No," she agreed, "it was a tie between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. So I chose the one least likely to get me disowned."

Harry nodded.

"Smart choice."

They walked on in silence s Harry contemplated his first Hogwart's experience. Except for Ginevra and Theo, Hogwarts was the epitome of all things he detested. He longed to be back in Italy, riding across the fields, spending time at the Collegio…Paris. He suddenly felt sick and swayed. His companion noticed and moved to support him, but he waved her away.

"I'll be fine."

She nodded and gave him some room. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and then signaled to Ginevra that he was well enough to walk.

They reached the common room, and spent the rest of the evening sitting in a dark corner near the fire, speaking quietly about politics and life. Harry was less than forthcoming about his, but Ginevra took it all in stride, and Harry saw a lot of Blaise in his new friend, except more thought and less spontaneity.

"Bright spot", he said when there was a pause in their conversation. She looked at him, puzzled.

"I think you might be my bright spot amongst these dark denizens."

Ginevra threw her head back and laughed. This was a relief to Harry, who had been crossing his fingers the girl wouldn't giggle or blush.

"Really?" She said and Harry nodded.

"It's nice to meet someone who's authentic."

The redhead looked at him.

"You miss Italy, don't you?"

Harry nodded.

"You remind me of my best friend."

Ginevra smiled and stuck out her hand again.

"Here's to friendship then."

Harry smiled.

xxxxxxxxxx

Classes were easy. Harry had expected them to be less than challenging, but he had not expected to be bored. The only classes that remotely interested him were Potions and History of Magick. He thought he might be the only one, even in his Ravenclaw class that managed to stay awake during the lectures Professor Binns gave.

Potions was different. He'd been good at cooking and at the Collegio his potion's marks had been highs, but he had known from the beginning that Professor Snape was not someone to mess about with. So Harry paid attention and actually took pride in his essays. Professor Snape paid no real attention to him, but Harry could tell the man had ways of watching him, and it was, in a way, a relief of some sort to know someone was watching his back…maybe not to look after him…but watching him nonetheless. Potions was also the only time Harry really saw Theo. They often partnered each other and although it would have been suicide to talk, the two boys worked seamlessly, and Harry felt a lot closer to Theo than he did to most people, seeing as they were both from similar situations. It appeared that Theo was somehow related to Blaise as well, and Harry had great fun writing to her that he'd discovered a long lost cousin.

xxxxxxxxxx

Before Harry knew it, the first month had passed. He felt uncomfortable, and unsafe. The safety measures the Ministry had forced the school to take were concealed well, but Harry knew that Dementors were patrolling at night. Why the Ministry insisted on allying themselves with dark creatures was beyond him, but Harry listened to the hat's advice and looked and listened…and observed.

Within weeks he had discovered all the nooks and crannies of the castle, and logged them in his mind. Often he would have a new room to show Ginevra after classes, where they could study quietly, or where he could teach her wandless magic. Her progress was slow, since it was more a case of unlearning what she had learned at Hogwarts than anything else.

Harry did whatever he could to keep his mind off his boyfriend. But sometimes, late at night, after he had said goodbye to Ginevra, or walked Zach Smith and Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff couple he had become friendly with, back to their common room, he would curl up on his bed, like a fetus, and cry. He wasn't ashamed of his tears, but he hated the warm tracks that they left and the reminder at how far away he was from Paris. It was like a nasty taste in the back of his mouth, a constant reminder how he had failed…how he was almost a murderer…as good as killed the only thing he had ever really given his all to.

xxxxxxxxxx

One morning before Potions as Harry was walking down the corridor, he caught his partner in a heavy argument with a tall, muscular blonde. Theo, who was quite tall, but with broad shoulders, was shaking his head so hard that his brown hair was whipping into his eyes. The blonde had grasped Theo's upper arm, and Harry could see the material of his friend's shirt bunching up with the pressure.

"Forget it Malfoy, I already told you - I am not my father. You can find another guinea pig!"

"You should be honored, Nott….you aren't fit to lick anyone's shoes, but we still accepted you into Slytherin. Your name, given to you by your father, is the only thing you have going for you right now…I wouldn't be so quick to throw it away."

"I'm not you, Draconis. Nor do I wish to be. Now let me go…"

Harry stepped into the light, and the boys sprung away from each other. The blonde scowled, but didn't leave, glaring at Harry. Harry turned to Theo.

"Hey. I was just coming to get you. We're going to be late for potions."

The blonde sneered.

"What he does is no concern of yours, Potter. He is a Slytherin. We don't play well with others."

Harry ignored him and gripped his cane. The boy colored slightly and stepped forward.

"I'm not used to being ignored." He spoke with calm, aristocratic tone, and for a minute, Harry saw his boyfriend standing there. He stumbled backwards and it was only his cane that held him upright.

The blonde smirked. Harry stared back, like he'd seen a ghost.

"Hadrian?" Theo stepped forward and put a hand on Harry's arm. Harry turned to him.

"I'm ready to leave now, Theo."

Theo nodded and turned him around, and they walked away from the Slytherin, who stood like a statue, watching them.

As soon as they were inside the door, Theo turned to him.

"What was that? You looked…scared."

Harry avoided his friend's eyes, and shrugged.

"I thought I saw something I didn't."

Theo kept looking at him, until Harry looked up. There was a steely look in his eyes.

"What did he want?"

Theo blinked.

"Who, Draco Malfoy?"

"Is that his name?"

Theo nodded and Harry thought about it. Draco Malfoy…It was a strong, powerful name. The name of a leader.

"He was asking about your father's connections, right?"

Theo looked uncomfortable, but nodded.

"His father was associated with You-Know-Who back in the old days, though when the Dark Lord disappeared, he came back saying he'd been under Imperius, never meant any of it. Mum doesn't believe it…nor do I. Especially now this has happened. But he's hard to figure out…he's quite similar to that boy you were telling me about…Paris?"

Harry swallowed.

"Is he really?" I'll do the best I can to avoid him then, Harry thought as he continued taking his things out of his bag.

Draco Malfoy strolled into class late, but as he was a Slytherin favourite, Professor Snape merely raised his eyebrows. Malfoy smirked, and Harry had to clutch his cane tightly to feel the comfort Faolan usually emanated. Malfoy stopped at Professor Snape's desk and leant forward to whisper something in the older man's ear. He shot a look at Harry, who felt distinctly uncomfortable, but Professor Snape shook his head at whatever the blonde said, and Malfoy scowled before smoothing his face over and stalking to his seat in the back.

Harry breathed out heavily. Theo looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"I can't help but feel I got out of something extremely horrific there." Harry whispered to his friend. Theo smiled. Harry tried to ignore the eyes on his back.

xxxxxxxxxx

_London, 1st October_

_Dear Hadrian,_

_You need to be careful. It may prove difficult to gather information in a place as enclosed as Hogwarts, but remember to keep your eyes and ears open. Gossip, however much you despise it, may turn out to be useful in times such as these. Your grandparents are worried. They have enquired about the possibility of having you stay with me. Frankly, why bring you back to England if they didn't want you in the magical community here in the first place? But that is their decision. On that note, write to your mother. She's sick with worry. Your sulking has lasted long enough._

_Things are afoot here; like last time, Lord Voldemort's arm reaches long and far. Guard yourself well. Things are different here. Be cunning instead of brave. But always remain true at heart. Don't aspire to be a Ministry hero, Hadrian. Look where it got your father. You weren't meant to be in the spotlight. Write to your mother. Ask her how she spent the war last time. Keep your wits about you, Hadrian. Don't let me down._

_Aunt Petunia_

Harry folded the letter and looked out the window. He watched a blonde head meet a red one and by the movements of their hands, he could tell there was a heavy argument going on.

There was a knock on the door and he waved a hand. The magick tingled in his fingertips and the door opened. Ginny wandered in and came to his window.

"Oh dear," she sighed as she saw the people below. "Ron never know when to leave well enough alone."

"Is that Malfoy?"

Ginny nodded. "Ron hates him because Malfoy is an elitist. And won't agree that Ron's status as Boy Who Lived gives him superiority. And because he's in Slytherin. Malfoy thinks Weasley's don't have class. To be fair, Malfoy never starts the trouble, but he knows how to push Ron's buttons. And Ron won't be ignored."

Harry nodded, realizing that this was what Aunt Petunia meant with keeping your ears open. He was picking up undercurrents that the teachers themselves weren't aware of.

"But Malfoy is, I hate to say it, smarter than my brother. Everybody knows his family is heavily involved with Dark Arts, but he's too clever to get caught. He has this way of disappearing, it's uncanny. Were it not for the no-apparating rule I'd think he was doing that. He's as good as Fred and George, if not better."

Harry had briefly met the twins and had heard of their legendary skills in pranking.

"They know a lot about the castle then?"

Ginny nodded.

"They have a map. They think I don't know about it, but they're not as covert as they'd like to think."

Harry smiled. Indeed.

xxxxxxxxxx

He watched the twins over the next week; and noted that Ginny was right. The twins DID have a map, and it seemed to show most of the castle. Harry could see the magick around it, and was itching to get his hands on it. As luck would have it, he was in the neighbourhood the next time Ron decided to pick a fight with Draco.

The redhead tripped up Gregory Goyle, a friend/henchman of Malfoy. The boy was only intimidating because he was large and he reminded Harry very much of Hagrid the Game Keeper. The blonde scowled in displeasure as Goyle stumbled and dropped his books. Malfoy looked tired, Harry noted, as the aristocrat turned around to face the onslaught.

There were aggressive insults parried with smooth, cutting remarks. Just when it looked like Ronald Weasley was going to deliver a blow; his brothers showed up and Harry couldn't believe his luck. He stuck to the shadows and watched as the twins immersed themselves in the argument. When he saw students begin to crowd around the boys, he took his chance and scanned the bags that Fred and George had discarded.

When he found the by now familiar tingle, he muttered an 'accio' and felt the parchment materialise in his hands. Allowing himself a small sigh of relief, he faded back into the shadows. He missed the speculative look on Draco Malfoy's face.

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry looked at the blank piece of paper and concentrated on lines of magick he could feel running through the entire paper. Focusing his mind, he pulled them forward and in front of his eyes the map appeared. Every passage in the castle was illustrated, including the secret passages leading to Hogsmeade. In addition to that, everybody in the castle was on the map, their names illustrated with footprints. Harry was impressed with the workmanship that had gone into making the map.

_The Marauders Map; Courtesy of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs._

The Marauders. Hmm. That felt like it should ring a bell, but Harry was so immersed in the map to think it through properly. He took out parchment and examined the charms weaved into the map. He tried various copying spells, but the map was never fully duplicated.

When he was frustrated enough to rip the paper to shreds, he had a brainwave. He'd been trying to copy the entire map at once, and hadn't thought about taking bits at a time. Spreading the two pieces of paper out in front of him, Harry slid back against the wall. He took a finger and traced a few of the lines, breathing in the magick. When he put the finger on his own parchment, he let out the breath he had been holding, and the lines he had been tracing bled out of his finger. Magick properties intact. He smirked to himself and set to copying the entire map. This would be his starting point, and by Christmas, he knew he'd have expanded the castle.

When he was done, he banished the Marauders map back to the twins, and examined his own copy. The magick of the map only went s far as the knowledge of the inventors. For example; whoever had created the map didn't know about the mirror that lead to a small cavern with a shelf of obscure books on the ninth floor.

"Aiden," he hissed in Parseltongue, knowing that the sound would carry. He cocked his head and waited and sure enough, after a few minutes Aiden came around the corner.

"What?" The snake asked as his tongue flicked out and tasted Harry's hand. Harry pointed at the map and Aiden looked at it. "It's not finished." Aiden stated, and Harry smiled.

"I thought you would say that. I need you to go and find add-ons whilst I explore what's already on here."

Aiden glared at him.

"Oh NOW I'm useful, am I?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Stop sulking - you're getting too fat anyway!"

"Well I never-" Aiden hissed an insult too quick for Harry to catch and slithered away.

Harry glanced at the map and decided he would start with the lowest levels of the castle. The dungeons were the past he thought the Marauders would have had the most difficulty with; unless, of course, they were Slytherins.

He took Faolan and made his way downstairs. His descent was slow and he vowed to himself that he would exercise his leg more. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to rely on his magick all the time.

Walking past the Potion's classroom and the labs that were next, he turned a few corners until he was in a part of the castle he didn't recognise. He knew he was deeper than the Slytherin common rooms, so he took out his map. Like he'd expected, the details were sketchy at best down here, but he added the way he had come and walked on.

He heard it coming, but was too slow to turn around. The ball of light that he'd conjured was smashed to the ground, and he was pushed up against the wall, a hand around his throat. The minute his light smashed, he'd banished the map to his room, relieved that he'd had the presence of mind to take care of that.

"Lumos," someone whispered, and in the eerie blue light coming from the tip of the person's wand, Harry saw grey eyes, flashing like storm clouds.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, his expression neutral and the grip on his neck was released, the aristocrat stepping back. Harry wasted no time in putting up a protective barrier. The blonde smirked.

"What's a cripple like you doing in a place like this?" Draco's tone was vindictive, but his eyes were calculating.

Harry ignored the insult, brushing himself off and picking up his cane.

"Mute as well?" Draco asked, leaning against the wall examining his nails.

"If you want my attention, there are other ways to get it, Malfoy." Harry's voice was quiet and he braced himself for another attack.

Draco stalked forward and frowned when he was about three feet away from Harry, and couldn't get any closer. His expression smoothed.

"Why would I want your attention, Harry Potter? Is there something about you that I might have missed?" He gave Harry a once-over and then smirked. The blonde hair disappeared and for an instant Paris was there. Harry blanched and his concentration wavered. Draco fell forward as the barrier disappeared and managed to stop himself from crashing by putting his hands out against the wall; Harry caught between them.

Nose to nose, they observed each other. Harry wondered what type of personality Draco really had. Draco smirked again. Maybe he was just really an arsehole, Harry thought as he got more fidgety. However, he centred himself like his capoeira teacher had taught him and took a deep breath. Malfoy was a bully and Harry had to steer clear of bullies, especially when he was supposed to be sleuthing.

"No Malfoy. There's nothing you missed." And he ducked out from under the taller boy's arms. Malfoy stepped back and looked at Harry, whose expression was as cool as it had been the first day they met.

"Indeed," said Malfoy, and looked calculating. "Indeed."

Harry shrugged at that and turned to leave the dungeons. With Malfoy snooping around there was little room for any "discoveries". He faded back into the shadows like he was used to and Draco looked confused as his prey seemingly disappeared.

Harry shook his head as Draco scanned the area. Draco may be more of an aristocrat than Harry but Harry was the one who had studied at the Collegio and knew more about the art of disappearing, wandless and wordless magick and theory of magick than the best Slytherin. And once he worked on his physical strength, it would be all right. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that Malfoy had been able to sneak up on him like that. That was bad that meant that he'd been too distracted to notice his surroundings and in a hostile environment concentration was an absolute must.

Frustrated, he returned to his room where he was intercepted by Ginny.

"Where've you been!" She sounded concerned and from the sight of his creased sheets had been waiting for a while.

"Have you been waiting long?" He asked instead and watched as she blushed.

"Well I couldn't find Aiden or I would've sent a message!" She snapped but her face contorted back to worry and Harry knew that things were about to change.

"What happened?"

Ginny look out the window.

"Lucius Malfoy is coming to Hogwarts tomorrow as part of a supposed school inspection…Malfoy was the one who gave me Riddle's diary when I was younger."

Harry frowned at this; Ginny had mentioned once that she had been possessed by Tom Riddle for a short while in her first year of school but never elaborated. By the haunted look in her eyes, Harry could tell it was quite a story.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked. Ginny thought for a moment.

"Draco will be on his best behaviour…which means he will be a complete pain, more so than usual. Ron will spend the entire day looking as if he's about to combust in self-righteous anger. The teachers will be walking around on eggshells…"

"Wait, all because of one man?"

Ginny looked appalled.

"He's not just one man," she hissed, "he is the Dark Lord's right-hand man."

"Voldemort?" Harry asked, surprised. Sure, he attributed many things to the Malfoy family but following a half-blood in his revenge quest for genocide seemed a bit…beneath their style? "Are you sure? Because…"

"Well of course nobody is sure, but he's as good as a dark wizard!"

Harry looked at her and Ginny took a deep breath.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologise. Obviously what happened to you still has some deep scars. But you did sound rather Gryffindorish." He grinned as Ginny huffed and threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up."

"Hey, leave my pillows alone. If you can't behave yourself like a proper lady you'll have to leave."

She stuck out her tongue and Harry had to admit to himself that he'd obviously lost control of this one. He lay down on the bed next to her and together they contemplated the blue canopy.

"I'm scared." Ginny told Harry, and he put his arm around her.

"Its okay, Bright Spot. Nothing's going to happen to you on my watch."

She smiled and curled against his side. He put his other hand beneath his head and thought of the school governors impending visit. He was very interested to see what Malfoy's father would be like, and how the headmaster would handle this supposed threat.

xxxxxxxxxx

He awoke to a loud gasp and turned to see Cho Chang, the head girl, staring at the two in the bed.

"Potter! Get up! Get out!"

Harry blinked.

"Err…this is my bed."

Cho's eyes widened and it seemed like she would reach over and shake Ginny awake. Harry, who was still fully dressed, finally got up, wincing as his leg muscles protested.

"Chang, what are you doing here?"

"What are you doing with the Boy-Who-Lived's sister in your bed!"

Harry scowled.

"None of your business."

Cho glared. Ginny rolled over, opened her eyes and blinked.

"Hadrian; why is the head girl here?"

Harry gave Cho a cold look.

"That's what I'd like to know."

Cho looked from one to the other.

"Dumbledore wants to see you." With a last hard look she turned to go. Harry's voice stopped her.

"Chang, if you ever feel the need to come into my room unannounced, you'd better have your wand out."

Cho narrowed her eyes.

"Is that a threat?"

Harry looked at her and she left, throwing Ginny a less than complimentary look. Once the girl was out the door Ginny and Harry turned to each other and burst out laughing.

"Did you see the look on her face?" Harry grinned and Ginny nodded.

"I can't wait…oh shit. Just wait till Ron finds out about this."

Harry shrugged.

"So what?"

Ginny shook her head.

"You don't understand…Ron seems to think it's up to him to play…err…some sort of over-protective brother, but I reckon he does it more to further his Boy-Who-Lived image than anything else. He's especially vicious when it comes to me and boys. I don't have the best track record in dating…"

Harry smiled sympathetically.

"Neither do I, really."

They shared a look and Ginny got up. At the door, she turned around.

"Thanks for that…"

Harry smiled.

"It's okay."

Once she was gone, Harry stretched and got out of bed. He decided to take a shower before seeing what Dumbledore wanted, and maybe get some breakfast…lunch…dinner…

xxxxxxxxxx

"Excuse me?"

Dumbledore folded his hands together on his desk and Harry suppressed a twinge of annoyance.

"I don't WANT to meet with Remus Lupin - oh, my apologies, PROFESSOR Remus Lupin. Why? Why should I? What does this have to do with anything?'

Harry berated himself for letting go like that, but really - who did Dumbledore think he was…making demands on him like that? The old wizard looked infinitely patient.

"He has requested it, Harry. Surely you can indulge an old friend of your father this much?"

Weary, Harry rubbed his eyes. He just wanted this to be over with.

"All right, all right…I'll go see him. When?"

Dumbledore smiled. Harry wanted to pull his beard or something childish like that, but closed his eyes instead.

"Later on today, Mr. Potter? Maybe after lunch?"

Oh good. So he hadn't missed lunch yet. He nodded at the Headmaster and left, wondering why he was constantly being forced into things he'd rather not do. Stupid pureblood heritage. He was descending the steps to the great hall when a shadow fell across his path, and he looked up. Lucius Malfoy was standing in front of him, a smirk on his face.

Could there really be anything other than a smirk on his face, Harry wondered? He inclined his head and made to walk into the hall when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He gave Malfoy a look, but the man merely raised his aristocratic eyebrows.

"You're Hadrian Potter."

Harry nodded. He looked past Lucius' shoulder, hoping that help would arrive in some form. But it didn't. In fact, it got worse.

"Father!"

Harry closed his eyes and tried not to groan, but when he opened them again, he could tell by the amused look on the elder Malfoy's face that he had failed.

"Father…" Draco had caught up to them by now and looked at Harry. "…oh, Potter. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hobbling off somewhere?"

Harry rolled his eyes - Malfoy junior really needed to come up with a new repertoire - when Lucius rapped Draco sharply on the arm with his cane.

"Apologise."

Both students stared at him.

"What?" Said Draco, looking from his father to Harry. "Father - no. Why should I?"

"Because," Lucius said, eyes trained on Harry, "this boy here is a shining example of pureblooded aristocracy…never mind his mudblood mother."

Harry's eyes, dull green for the most part, enflamed, and the fire crackled at the tips of his fingers. He quickly doused them, but not before Draco's eyes had widened.

Harry mentally kicked himself. Why was it always Malfoy who caught him being…well…not normal. It was really beginning to be a problem. Ignoring this for now, he straightened and turned towards the elder.

"I do not appreciate your petty name calling…it is not a term one usually hears in civilised conversation."

He opened the doors, leaving father and son behind him and walked towards the Ravenclaw table. Ginny was gesturing to him furiously but he couldn't interpret what she was trying to tell him, and suddenly a large shape crashed into him and knocked him onto the floor, his cane skittering across the stone.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOUR PLAYING AT? SLEEPING WITH MY SISTER?"

Harry wrinkled his nose as Ronald Weasley sprayed saliva everywhere. A look towards said sister saw her lowering her head in shame as people stared at her and whispered. He glanced along the table at the Headgirl, who was looking smug.

What the fuck was this? Pick on Harry day? He tried to get up but Ron knocked him down again. Staring at the head table, he realised that many of the professors weren't there yet, and obviously the prefects weren't going to be much help…not when it came to the great Boy-Who-Lived.

"What is your problem?" Harry finally said, choosing not to get up anymore, and just sitting next to the benches. Weasley looked like he was about to explode…but then again, he nearly always had that look.

"YOU SULLIED MY SISTER'S VIRTUE! I KNOW ALL ABOUT IT! YOU WERE IN BED TOGETHER…YOU LOW DOWN SLIMY CRIPPLED SORRY EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING…"

Harry raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Whispering a quiet _silencio_, he silently summoned his cane and watched the Boy-Who-Lived scream himself hoarse…not realising nobody couldhear him.

Finally some Gryffindors came to his rescue, holding him back and cancelling the spell. The boy's veins seemed about to burst, and Harry was actually worried for an instant, until he recalled the accusations thrown at him.

"Firstly…" he said, when the redhead paused for breath, "I did not have sex with your sister. I have a boyfriend." Gasps echoed around the hall and Ron's face contorted with disgust. This, Harry could handle. It was so easy to be bigoted nowadays.

"Second, she DID stay in my room, to sleep, because we are friends, Weasley. In fact, if you paid more attention to her, you'd know this. But seeing as all she is to you is a means to further your own popularity when it suits you, your ignorance does not surprise me. And third, we were both dressed, and were perfectly content in keeping it that way, and there would have been no problem, had not our esteemed head girl entered my room without knocking and causing a fuss."

Shaking his head, he walked on towards the Ravenclaw table and slumped into his seat next to Ginny, decorum be damned. Weasley's friends were leading him back to the Gryffindor table but he was still yelling at the top of his lungs.

"IF YOU TOUCH MY SISTER, POTTER YOU FUCKING POOF I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL FUCKING…"

Harry tuned him out and turned to Ginny instead.

"All that anger cannot be healthy."

Ginny grinned, nodded, and dug into her mashed potatoes. And that was that. Or so Harry thought. He noticed some of the boys and girls giving him interested glances, and he smiled into his food. So the cripple was interesting now that he had outed himself? Well tough luck for them he was taken. But some of the faces in the hall were less than pleasant and promised hurt in Harry's nearby future. Whatever. He was done for the day…shit, except he wasn't because he had to meet Remus Lupin.

Eager to get it over and done with, Harry patted Ginny on the head and left early. The minute he reached the doors a tall shape materialised and blocked it. Clutching his cane Harry looked up and groaned.

"Oh this really isn't my day." He said quietly and all he really wanted was to go to bed. But Draco Malfoy merely smirked at him.

"So, you're a faggot?"

Harry sighed, and nodded.

"Yes, Malfoy, I fancy boys."

The blonde smiled and leaned forward.

"Shame about the boyfriend…if you ever, you know, want to release some tension…just tell me. I'm sure we can work around your leg." He gave Harry a once over and Harry closed his eyes. This wasn't happening. This was…a sharp sudden pain for Italy took his breath away and when he opened his eyes Malfoy was still there.

"I'm completely loyal to my boyfriend, Malfoy…and you would be the last person on earth that I would want to sleep with."

Then he hobbled out the door and towards his room. Screw everybody, he was going to bed. He just wanted today to be over with…he wanted everything to be over with. Hogwarts was just one nightmare after the other. And Harry was starting to have enough.

xxxxxxxxxx


End file.
